Come On, Man

Throughout this weekend, I was determined to find something to write about Luca. I set my mind to ignoring all the hilarious Elijah stuff. For example, last night Eli pointed to my fat stomach and said, “You have baby in your fat stomach?” No. That will not make it into the blog. This is a Luca blog today. Nor will the story of how Diana caught Eli practicing crying by himself the other day. This is a Luca entry, darn it.

Diana took Eli to the Nature Center this morning. So I figured I’d spend a few hours with Luca and he’d for sure do something blog worthy.

First, I had to wait until he finished sleeping. I busied myself cleaning the kitchen (Husband of the Year Runner Up). I heard some yelping from the living room and ran in for some blog action. Still asleep. The yelping was from an awful kids show where they ask toddlers to spell things on screen and then awkwardly wait for the answer. I call it “The Creepy Staring Show.”

I lugged the sleeping Luca into the kitchen to sit in his bouncy chair. I figured if I played 1990’s legend “Neutral Milk Hotel” on my ipod, a band Diana compares to disemboweling cats, it would snap Luca out of his spell. No luck. The songs made him sleep deeper. Probably as a protective measure, like a possum.

After mopping the floor, I noticed he was awake. Bingo. I stared at him while he stared at the bouncy chair toys. Alright. Do you bloggiest. He just calmly sat there. Contemplating. Occasionally, he would bat a toy.

Frustrated, I toted him back into the living room. I scanned the TV guide for something I thought would get a reaction out of him. I found Mixed Martial Arts in the 180’s. You know that sport? Where glandular men in very tight shorts sit on each other and pummel their faces into goo? Well, I didn’t let him watch it, but I let him listen to it. I thought the howls of inexplicably furious fans would jar him out of his good mood.

No go. He just sat there, burrowing into me with his gigantic blue eyes. After the third or fourth man was sent to the emergency room I couldn’t take it anymore and switched to the food network.

The sound of the tenth gourmet cat food commercial in a row stirred something in Luca and he began crying. Yes. Success.

I scooped him up and loudly proclaimed, “Oh no. Bad baby. My day is ruined. This uncontrollable crying will surely result in a bloggable story!”

I cradled him in my arms and said to no one, “Whatever shall I do?” He immediately went to sleep in my arms.