Dribbliss bib-less

The faucet finally got a washer!

I think it's one of those signs my baby is growing into a big boy. We now are like other parents of toddlers, and do not need to change his bib hourly (at grave risk of drowning, I might add). In fact, Braeden hasn't worn a bib at all in five days. Five whole days!

Good Gods.. that's nearly a whole washing machine load just there, if you add it up :-)

Even more amazing when you consider he's cutting not one, but four teeth. The left eye tooth is through, the right one nearly there (causing his first ever ear infection.. ugh!), and the corresponding two on the bottom are also peeking/swelling. Many wise parents warned me "you think his teething is bad now, you just WAIT til those eye teeth come through" (with blanched faces, rolled eyes and general air of gloom and apocolypse)

But they haven't been too bad, actually. Oh yeah he was miserable with that ear infection, and who wouldn't be, but the antibiotics have been effective, and although the bump behind his ear hasn't gone away yet, at least it hasn't grown. The Doc said sometimes the bump never completely goes away; his 30 yr old son still has his, which made Braeden's 43 yr old mother reach behind her right ear (yep same side as Brae) and sure enough, I've got a bump too. Oh bugger.. ah well, shouldn't be too much of a problem for him as long as he doesn't wear earrings with long posts ;-)

Another rite of passage is that from cot to Big Boy's Bed. Brae loves his fire engine bed, and happily clambers up & puts himself to bed most times. You can count on at least one "OH NO WAY AND YOU'RE NOT GOING TO MAKE ME!" refusal once a week, but that's par for the course. It's far more likely that you look up, realise he's stomped off somewhere (the kid always stomps, even on tippy toes), and you find him snuggled up on his bed, dummy in gob, one grubby fist clutching Puppy (favourite toy of which we have twins!), and the other clutching half a soggy banana or sandwich.

Another sign he's a big boy is when I made his bed this morning, half a stale sandwich shot out & flew under the dresser. There'll be grimy plates with strange new life forms next.

Ah well.. better get off the computer and read my assignment aloud to nearly 18mth old son (gasp!!! 1 1/2 already???) and ask him to critique it before I complete the referencing. Given that his newest word is "Me!", I guess I'll have to settle for eloquent analytical dissection via baby babble.

And doesn't that say it all about literary criticism!