Ooh that smell

So dylan’s farts have started to smell. It used to be that it was all noise, and he would laugh, and everyone had a good time. Now they really stink, and he’s the only one who finds it funny. I used to relish having a son who could rip’em with the best, but now, it can be quite bothersome. It is still a little funny though. How can you get mad at a baby who laughs when he farts. the problem is that the semi-odorless stage may be past us forever. Breast fed babies don’t have the awful smelling diapers, and farts of their formula fed friends. Eventually the circle of pooh catches up to them, and it all stinks in the end. The good news is, I now have someone else to blame farts on, which will be nice for the times when rudi is outside. I thought i’d mix it up a bit, and tell some of the tales of our trip from dylan’s perspective. He seemed to have a pretty good time.

Most people would think it would be a hassel to take a 3 month old child on a long trip. Not when you have family. This means there is always someone who wants to hold the baby, or watch him, so you can have a nice dinner out. Young Dylan got passed around more than a doobie at a Rush concert. He seemed to enjoy himself. Most days were spent under a canopy, eventually napping on the beach, in between breast feeding sessions in a condo. Dylan also had a similar schedule. The one day, we got caught in a thunderstorm, and had to break for cover. Lucky for us, a few feet away was a dive-bar owned by my family. We ran for cover. The only problem was that it was feeding time, and we had no bottles. Since we are related to the owners, young dylan got the thrill of breast feeding in the back-room office, as we all drank beer and waited out the storm. Now, I’ve logged many, many hours in this bar over the years, and have never got to 2nd base, anywhere near this place. he’s less than 4 months old, and he’s got me beat. Needless to say, I’m waaay prouder of this experience than his mother is. If all goes well, I should have the security footage on the internet by weeks end.

Also on the trip, dylan rolled over for the first time. belly to back for all you wondering parents out there. i’m not sure what this means. Likely that the days of leaving him in one spot (i.e.on top of the fridge) are starting to pass us by. This means we will have to switch to a zone defense, as he becomes more mobile. This also means, all the dangerous stuff in our house (i.e light sockets, nunchucks, poisonous frogs) will need to be addressed. He also got to have his first shower. The one day, he had his feet off the blanket, and in the sand. He quickly became enthralled by the new stuff at his feet, and began to play with the sand. Now at this point in his life, he has roughly 80 percent body fat, just like his daddy. This means for every roll of fat you see, there are six more filled with sand. We found ourselves behind schedule in preparing to leave for dinner, so dylan didn’t get his usual bath time experience. His baths consist of Mommy doing all the grunt work, and daddy there for moral support, and to laugh when he pees in the tub. So we decided to tempt fate. Dylan would get his first shower. I don’t know if it’s because he’s too young to know better but he did great. Basically, I just held him under a stream of water in the shower, being carefull not to let the water in his face, or drop him. All went well. I myself was afraid to shower until I was about 12. When I was little, I never wanted to get out of the tub at bath time. I was Luke Skywalker sweeping in, in my X-wing to blow up the deathstar, my weiner was my joystick, much as it is today. I had a babysitter tell me that if I was still in the tub when the drain plug came out, I would be swept down, and washed away forever. Seeing as how when you shower, the drain is open, I was mortified, and to this day still plan a diabolical revenge on my parents for making me shower.

Dylan also had one more neat trick, that earned him several more coolness points with daddy, even though I was the victim. We like to play “superbaby”. I hold him over my head, and he flies around the room, laughing the entire time. it’s quite cute, except when “superbaby” laughs too hard, and pukes right on daddy’s face. It’s a strange sensation that I don’t even think I can describe, when your son pukes partially digested breastmilk right on your face. Luckily my mouth closes at the speed of a bear trap, so we don’t have to go there. What we do know, is that Dylan won’t be allowed to watch anymore of the 2 girls 1 cup videos from the internet.