I woke up early this morning to hang out with Ethan and my mom while Chris and Jen ran a ten mile race in Central Park. By the time I made my 60+ block commute through the cold though, my little buddy was fast asleep.
I hung out readin’ the Times being parented by my mom (“Your eyes don’t look well. Are you feeling all right? Would you like some Cream of Wheat? Did you call Brian about your 410k? Are you grinding your teeth?”). I ate two bowls of Cheerios. On the second bowl, one of my teeth cracked. One of my new ones. One of my $12,000 ones.
So the kid finally wakes up, and we giggle together a while, and mom and dad comes home, and Ethan is all smiles. There isn’t a 8-month-old on Earth who’s smarter, cuter, or stronger.
My photo op requirements met, I’m off to Dr. Musikand for an emergency consultation. Which is good, ‘cuz this kiddy music is makin’ me a little bit nuts.