<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d10304686\x26blogName\x3dThe+Proverbial+Line\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://scottpatrick.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://scottpatrick.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-5786071934619625915', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
Sunday, March 19, 2006

Baby Baby

Last evening I went up to Mom's for some good old-fashioned southern-fried chicken. ::drool:: I felt kind of bad eating my fried chicken after having just played the "feeding game" with my niece.

I wasn't aware that there was a game to feeding, but little 7 month-old Bree showed me. Apparently, to feed a baby, you take a little spoon and shove canned green shit in her mouth, then scrape half of it back off their chin. Next, You dump more in, while she screams and throws her toy on the floor.

This is a bit of a diversionary tactic. While you bend down to pick up the toy, said baby then tries to shove her fingers in the cup of green shit. Thankfully, I'm quicker than she is, so she didn't succeed. This pisses off baby even more, so she then spits her next spoonful back out at me and it lands on her tray, my hand, and my jeans.

Then, she starts blowing raspberries each time the spoon approaches and mommy intervenes by taking baby out to be changed. It's also apparent to everyone but Uncle that the screaming and raspberry-blowing is baby for "my diaper is full of pee and I feel less-than-fresh."

Mommy changes baby while Uncle dutifully mixes up the alternate meal of baby formula. Baby comes back fresh and clean and smiling, and then goes to sit with Uncle on the couch and drinks her dinner. Hrm..liquid dinner? Baby seems to be taking after Uncle.

Me and little Baby Bree playing on the floor.

Isn't it scary how we have the same look on our faces? I guess she must be related to me, which disproves all of my childhood theories about me being adopted, or abandoned by a couple of Canadian Intellectual Hippies as part of an experiment.

Yeah, I'm happier when lounging in my scivvies too!

Just before she rolled over, curled up on my chest, and passed out, snoring.

Oh, and speaking of little bundles of joy, my little evil sissy-poo had her birthday today. YEY!! :)

2 Comments:

At 3/19/2006 10:44 PM, Blogger honeykbee's whiny, bitch-ass comment is...

Yeah, sorry, you were NOT adopted. Clearly.

cuteness runs in the family!

 
At 3/23/2006 3:47 AM, Blogger Amanda's whiny, bitch-ass comment is...

So cute I could vomit.

But in a good way.

I sort of feel the want for a baby... and by "sort of," I mean, "intensely".

And by "want," I mean, "want for like an hour."

 

Post a Comment