DON'T! STOP! DANCING!

On Friday, I visited my mom, grandma, sis and nephew. For some reason, travel doesn't quite agree with him. Maybe it's the time change, the change of atmosphere or something else, but he usually gets a bit fussy when in Wisconsin, which results in the following phrase:

"He's normally a good baby! He's not this fussy at home!"

But yeah, he can fuss a bit. We tried a bunch of things to make him happy -- singing, waving toys and carrying him around. He did start laughing and giggling when I began dancing for him. Not the "I'm-too-cool-bite-my-lower-lip" nighclub dance, but the insane tapdancer on crack type of dancing mixed in with dance moves stolen from Blossom and MTV's The Grind.

For a moment, I felt like Ann Darrow dancing for King Kong, except instead of getting slapped over a cliff, I was going to have a squawky, angry baby on my hands.

To his credit, Little O was a good kid at Mayfair Mall. He smiled, he cooed, he giggled and kicked his mom in the stomach as he bounced up and down in excitement at seeing new things. He was a little tired and angry on the way home. And he let us know in no uncertain terms.

Me and sister girl ran out of tunes to sing. We sang songs about Old McDonald, the wheels on the bus (with lines about therapy dogs, hungry dads and angry bus drivers), Itsy Bisty Spiders and Miss Mary Mack and her boyfriend. After that, I started singing Beatles' Yesterday. It's amazing what one can remember when you're under the stress. He did like the Beatles, which shows good taste in music.

Sister girl apologized for his behavior.

"It's no problem," I replied. "I did think of throwing myself from the car though."

I kid, I kid. He's still abso-fucking-lutely adorable and I love seeing him in all his facets of good and bad. He's a baby and he's honest in his emotions, which I wish I could get away with sometimes. I wish I could just start saying, "I'M! NOT! HAPPY! I! WANT! FOOD! NOW! I! WANT! TO! GO! HOME! NOW!" without getting my ass kicked by other adults.