I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream For No Reason Whatsoever

It has begun.

For nearly three months, my son was a polite, reasonably well-mannered young man. He conducted himself in social situations with the utmost civility, only resorting to the occasional cry or scream or pitifully extended bottom lip when something was very much the matter. Then, once we had taken care of his need, he would resume his affable good nature forthwith.

But all that has changed. As of this past Saturday at 2:13 pm, all rules of etiquette and decorum have gone out the window. It is now a 24/7 hollering free-for-all. I don't know if he's simply excited to have figured out how to kick his vocal cords into a new gear, or if there is something genuinely wrong that he is desperately trying to communicate. All I can tell you is that we have changed every item of clothing on his body, wiped him down, medicated him heavily, sung show tunes, degraded ourselves for his amusement, and shoved pretty much everything we can think of into his mouth for him to lick, suck, or chew on, and...nada. For apparently no real reason, he is eternally in a state that can best be described as Janet-Leigh-the-moment-Anthony-Perkins-draws-aside-the-shower-curtain.

All right, so it isn't constant; it only feels that way. He still smiles very often, and we have it on good authority that his is the most adorable baby smile in the history of baby smiles.

Exhibit A:

He's also a looker when he isn't even smiling, but has been dressed in serious attire. Like last Saturday, when he attended a birthday high tea party that was being thrown for his mother: 

He'll grow into that hat. Don't you worry about it. 

Also - and this is big news - he had his first out-and-out belly laugh a few days ago. Erin and I were both on hand to witness it, and it was indeed glorious. It occurred when Erin repeatedly zerberted Oliver's belly against his will, so yes, that belly laugh could just be the sound he makes when he's being tortured, but it was charming regardless. 

He spent some time with his new nanny today. We're hoping that he listens to her, and respects her, but doesn't like her very much, because we don't need the competition. We'll probably make up some scandalous rumors to tell him, so that his adoration of her is kept in check. Nothing too damning, but just enough to make him happy when we're off work, and to whimper a little bit when we hand him over to her each morning. 

The only other piece of big news is that he's moved up a size in both diapers and bottle nipples, and OH JESUS THESE ARE THE MOST EXCITING THINGS HAPPENING IN MY LIFE RIGHT NOW WHO AM I WHEN DID I BECOME THIS WAY SOMEONE PLEASE HELP. 

Designing Babies

Last week, I watched a short documentary about designer babies and germline editing, and then had a dream that night that I was watching a sitcom about four funny and eccentric infants - and their token black friend - who were running a successful interior design firm in Atlanta. If this vision is any indication of where we're headed, the future is indeed terrifying.

Seriously, that designer baby shit is fucked up though, yo. Like, I'm not totally down on the science of genome engineering - I think it would be great if we could use it to eradicate deadly diseases, apply it to cellular therapy, or eliminate the gene that makes people leave their shopping cart in the middle of the grocery aisle - but mixing and matching parts to our exact specifications, as if our children are Mr. Potato Head dolls, is frightening and sick. Although... it would be pretty hilarious to see someone with an ear where their nose is supposed to be, so... I take it back. I fully endorse Hasbro's human modification efforts. 

Of course, I don't have to worry about any of this, because my kid came out perfect without any tinkering. I mean... look at this:

And this:

And good Lord - this: 

Okay, so he's got a widow peak that's verging on Eddie Muster-ish. And it will be way easier to tell what he's thinking once he grows eyebrows. And he's not a pretty crier. But in every way that counts, this kid has got it going on. 

Let's talk about the smile for a second. His smile is the best thing ever in my life. I've seen babies smile before, of course, and I've always thought it's moderately cute, but typically not need-to-share-on-Facebook cute. And then this stranger comes along, and with a mere grin, he can make me not give a shit about anything else. It's hypnotic, and glorious. And he's starting to giggle, too. The first time he belly laughs, my head might explode off my body and my neck erupt with joy. 

And we just met him. Erin and I were talking about it the other night, and we both agreed that we already like him more than we like each other. And we like each other quite a bit, so that's an impressive thing. Especially considering that he still doesn't do many tricks. His list of special skills at this point really just include "making interesting facial expressions" and "flailing arms and legs like the inflatable tube man outside a Toyota dealership." 

And yet... he's more entertaining than anything on Netflix. We're honestly thinking about canceling our subscription and just binge-watching our child 24/7.