On my way home from work today I realized that I really don’t speak to Eli very often. 18 hours a day in this first month, Eli’s been asleep. And let me tell you, I let sleeping dogs and babies lay. Most of the other five hours, he’s crying. Not just crying, but bloody murder style screaming. So my conversations with him are along the lines of, “Whatta matta, baby?” Or, “Dear Lord, please stop this infernal racket.” So that leaves fifteen minutes here and there where he’s awake and not crying. I’m usually so stunned by this that I forget to talk.
But I started to get nervous that he was missing some kind of developmental stepping stone by me not speaking to him. Like 20 years from now I’ll be reading the paper about a super criminal who’s only calling card is his excellent pantomime skills.
Well, when I got home from the office today I was determined to have a real conversation with the boy. He slept until 8:30pm. Then screamed bloody murder until I changed him. Our conversation was along the lines of, “How on Earth can such a small person poop this amount?” He ate and then went right back to sleep. Oh well. Diana assures me if I want some real Eli talk time, I should try their special 3am-7am acrobatics time. Pass.
p.s. I chose today’s photo because Eli looks like he’s taking his 8th grade photo. I only wish there was a double exposure.
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