Knocked Up

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  • Kicking the Habit

    The bottle habit, that is.  At Axel's 12 month check-up, his doctor told us now's a good time to get the boy off the bottle and on to the cup.  Apparently, 12 - 15 months is a more flexible time in a child's life.  There's no doubt Axel is physically a Gumby; he can touch his nose with his toes.  His will and preferences, though, are less like a rubberband and more like Play-Do that's been left in an uncovered container for a few days.  I guess this is only going to get worse, and soon he'll refuse to eat anything that isn't orange and insist on wearing a snorkeling mask as a hat. 

     

    During the day, it's all sippy cup, all the time.  But he still has a bottle just before going to bed.  Axel falls asleep on his own, after the bottle and speed-reading a few books by turning the pages faster than a speeding bullet.  The extra calories of the post-bed milk do his body good, I think.  He has another bottle when he wakes up at about 5 in the morning.  After the 5 am bottle, he slips back off to dream of romping with a pack of friendly dogs in a room filled with empty cardboard boxes.  He stays asleep until 6:30 or, from time to time, 7:00.  This extra hour and a half is very, very precious to me.  I do not want to disrupt the 90 minutes that let me sleep a little more or shower in peace. 

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  • Food and Fears

    My son is in danger of starving.  He's going to waste away to nothing but a set of big blue-to-hazel eyes and wild light blond hair.  Yesterday, at childcare, he only drank two ounces of milk.  Today, he cut that to an ounce and a half.  He spent the days showing off, crawling around the room by putting down his right hand, then left, then pushing off his left foot.  Hand, hand, foot, repeat, until he'd criss-crossed the soft mat and the not so soft carpet.  I think he's trying to dig a groove in the shape of a 747 around the exersaucers and bouncy seats.  He has no time for nourishment - he's got important tricks to practice, a substitute teacher to seduce with his big grin and drool, and a roomfull of babies to impress.  Soon he'll lose a few of the slow-to-come pounds he's put on.  If it keeps up, he won't just crawl out of his pants, as he often does now; they'll fall off him the minute I pull them up.  

     

    Perhaps I'm overreacting. 

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About the Blogger

Oz Spies

Oz Spies in Denver

Oz Spies lives in Denver, Colorado with her husband, a firefighter; their son, Axel; and a slightly obese dog and cat. She has a MFA in Creative Writing from Colorado State University.

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