Don’t know nothin’ ’bout birthin’ no babies

My family was over at my house for my nephew’s birthday party today. The group included my great-nieces, one turning 6 next week and the other one being 2 1/2 years, and my great-nephew who is 2 1/2 months old. The littlest one sleeps a lot; he slept the first two hours he was there, which got us through dinner (just as well, he’s not ready for cheeseburgers). A while after dinner, and after he had had dinner (formula, mmmmm), he was in his car seat/carrier getting kinda fussy, so I went to hang out with him for a little bit. I’m not a big one for little kids, but I figured at his age he didn’t need a lot from me, so I just talked and kinda rocked him and let him wrap his whole hand around my index finger for a while. He calmed down and seemed to be content. I have to admit, with this one and the other two when they were at this stage, I’d look at them and get worried about whether they were all right. They move weird when they aren’t inert and make funny little noises, and I have no idea what they’re doing or wanting. The first two are fine, and it’s most likely this one is too. It just shows, I guess, that if I had had children, I would’ve been a nervous wreck. Maybe that’s why a lot of dads used to throw themselves into work and let the moms handle everything. It’s amazing they become “real” people from being so tiny and new.

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About songdogmi

I'm a longhaired almost-hippie stuck in the inner suburbs of a major rust-belt metropolis who's thoughtful, creative, and kind of geeky. In exchange for a paycheck I run around in a cubicle maze most days. When I escape, I play music, hang out in coffee houses, dink around on the computer, take naps, and think I should be off in the woods somewhere. Every once in a while I get in my car and drive far, far away, though I've always come back so far.
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