For the first four months of Eli’s life, Diana and I tip toed around the house on edge like damp cats. The slightest peep from Elijah would send us scrambling around, racing up the stairs, knocking over each other to fill bottles, change diapers, etc. We’d refuse visitors, lock ourselves in the house for fear that any upset in balance would create a crying baby.
It’s not that we were nuts (although lack of sleep made us come close), it’s just that we had no idea what we were doing. Every day was a new chance to screw up.
Well, now we’ve established a beautifully sane routine. We’ve kind of figured Eli out and he’s figured us out. We know what the whining cry means: “Feed me.” We know what the ear pulling means: “Need sleep.” We know what grabbing Grover’s fur means: “I want to grab Grover’s fur.”
So now we have something akin to a life. We make dinner, we visit with in-laws, we watch TV. Sound boring? I’ve never felt happier in my life.
Hmm. Yeah, this post isn’t very funny. I’m still a little brain melted from Atlanta. If you want funny, I suggest re-reading some of the old posts. I especially like the ones where Grover fills in.
Maybe something calamitously hilarious will happen today and tomorrow’s post will be funny. But I doubt it.
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