Man-ish

While I realize my little guy still has a vast amount of “growing up” to do (don’t they all really?), I’ve noticed recently that there are a few things that indicate he’s well on his way to becoming a man. For better or worse.

Don’t get me wrong; I love men. I married a good natured one who thankfully doesn’t mind the occasional blog post portraying him in slightly unfavorable light. Also, I’m tasked with raising two. And while I feel ultimately I’ll do a pretty good job, transforming my baby boys into men is also a undertaking that scares me to death. Cause God forbid either of them end up with a wife like me.

At the ripe old age of nine months my little baby boy-cub is becoming more man-ish. For instance:

1.   We don't nurse snuggled up and cozy belly to belly anymore. No. Now he sprawls out like a man on the couch. Feet up, arms askew, slugging a beer...straight from the tap.

2.   He whines. Of course all babies do. My girls did too. Still do in fact. But this little dude turns on the whiny voice. Just for effect and a little bit of attention. I hope he figures out that whiny men are never endearing to women. Neither are men that fake cough, drool excessively, or crap their pants. But for now, we’ll focus on the whine.

 

3.   He flips me off. A lot.

 

      

4.   His feet stink. Holy hell baby boy. I shudder thinking about future sneakers and gym socks and boy specific sports equipment.

 

5.   He tries to make himself fart (and is alarmingly successful). And he laughs when he succeeds. Actually he laughs even if he doesn’t fart on demand…cause farts are just funny. For a while now he’s been trying to make himself poop when he nurses, but he’s definitely upped his game with the flatulence.

6.   He sweats. Ick. And there goes the sweet smell of a newborn baby. Right. Out. The Window.

7.   He has attitude. And according to his pediatrician, he is a sleep manipulator. Apparently because I will do anything to get and keep my little to sleep, said little is a manipulator. Perhaps this is why I am the Mom, and not the pediatrician.

 

8.   He has a favorite chair, and likes to push it from room to room with him.

 

      9.  He is a terrible driver. It is inevitable I suppose.  Zero hands on the wheel. Looking around. Talking to himself. Drooling. Utterly unable to parallel park. Or get from Point A to Point B without me reminding him how to get there.

 

 (Can we pause for a sec and admire the chub!)

  

    10. He has no idea what to do with the laundry.

    11.  I don't even want to tell you what his favorite tub toy is...(hint: he's looking for it!)