Tomorrow will mark 4 weeks since Peter’s birth, and those 4 weeks just flew past in no time. It seems he’s growing up so fast already.
His likes and dislikes are evolving. He’s become more accepting of having his diaper changed, but being dressed still annoys him. He puts up with it for a while, but if we take too long in getting an outfit on him he’ll tell us about it. He’s ambivalent about being bathed, he’ll like it one day and not the next. But he seems almost to enjoy having his hair washed and groomed. Maybe it’s because he had such a hairy head when he was born, but it’s like he’s turning into one of those guys who tends to preen when it comes to his coiffure (I am reminded of the George Clooney character in O Brother Where Art Thou, and his constant if obsessive hair care: “I don't want Fop, goddamn it! I'm a Dapper Dan man!”).
Yesterday afternoon he fell asleep with his chest flat on my chest. He’d rhythmically go up and down as I breathed, and he slept like a rock. We took him out for a walk in his stroller around 6:30, and he slept through that, too, but only if the stroller was moving and was jostled by the varying seams of the sidewalk. If we stopped for too long he’d rouse himself as if to implore me to get a move on. We were stopped by a little girl during the walk who was very excited to see Peter. And like all other little kids, she wanted to gently poke his hand. I’m not quite sure what the allure is, but something compels them to poke him in the hand. At least it’s not anywhere more delicate.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
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1 comment:
Oh, boy. The girls are throwing themselves at him already. Well, I guess it's no surprise; it must be because he looks so much like his paternal grandfather - the reddish hair, the bluish eyes, the warm Irish smile. How perplexing that others don't see it.
I was able to visit with the little burrito and his Mom for a while this afternoon and to hold and burp him after he had lunch. There are not many feelings more wonderful than feeling against my cheek his little head bobbing up and down and back and forth on his now-famously strong neck. I was confident that there was some great bonding going on as his beautiful reddish (some insist it's black) hair gently rubbed against my once-reddish (now thorougly gray) whiskers. I suppose I must have been imagining that I heard him coo "I love Grampa."
In any case, watch out for those predatory little girls. First its getting Peter to grasp their little fingers, then a short kiss on top of the head, next thing you know, they're hugging him. They'll be relentless. En garde!
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