I fear my son is a zombie.
I mean, he is super cute. Adorable actually. All little spiky blond hair and big blue eyes. He squeals and babbles and laughs, and is generally the largest source of entertainment in our house.
We almost ran the legs of the dachshunds the other day because the baby was giggling at them. They were both panting and begging to quit. Nope. The baby likes it. Keep going dogs. They also have learned that when Pants goes for their racket ball - they better let the baby take it. They have sat for what I'm sure seemed like an eternity to a dog, shaking and whining, while Pants investigated the thing that they chase.
Anyway. We have a bit of a disturbing development in our house. Pants always was eating his stuffed monkey's head. When he did it, TJ would yell "BWAINS!" and we would all get a kick out of it. If only we could have seen what was to come. We would not have been so blase about it.
Pants has graduated to bwainsing me. He gets fistfuls of my cheeks (which feels lovely on its own) and then gnaws on cheeks, chin, forehead, or any place he can get his little gums. Its pretty gross. That kid drools. But it was cute and I called it baby kisses. Ha.
He cut a tooth. Its barely out. But its sharp and hurts like a serious son-of-a-bitch when he is chewing on my nose. When I saw "Ow" and make him stop digesting me, he LAUGHS. Like a little maniac
I am a little concerned for when he is able to get out of his bed and come into my room while I sleep. TJ is not worried. He says that he will grow out of it. From what I understand though, a zombie has an insatiable appetite. It don't look good for Gentry.
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