One Month Report

As with most things, I look to my Battle Buddy for inspirado in this matter.

Thus, we present this update in SALUTE format.

Size-- Growing at an alarming rate. Currently consuming his body weight in formula a day. I'm having to hold a bottle as I type. It is almost as if he is attempting to catch up to his Bruiser-sized peers.

Activity-- Mainly sleeping, crying, eating and filling diapers. In that order. He consistently resembles John Belushi imitating Joe Cocker at any given moment.

Location-- Never more than a few feet from his Momma. The potential for inadvertent disaster looms on the nights when she places him in the middle of our bed.

Unit Designation-- From what I can see, baby boy clothes come in either Loser Blue or Tweety Bird Yellow. I suspect that these are the colors his Momma feels that are appropriate for an infant to wear. Personally, I feel that all a child needs is a good kilt. (Sporran not pictured).

Time and Date-- Fortunately, I have the alibi of going to work every day. So my interaction with the child is limited to nights and weekends. Like a cell phone plan's free minutes. However, Friday and Saturday nights are my turn in the barrel. The subject receives his bottle of Weight Gain 4000 every three to four hours. Another month of this and I will be ready to institute Operation NyQuil. The boy may be coming down with a cold and Daddy likes to sleep.

Equipment-- The Binky, Pacifier, 1 each, has thus far proven to be a cruel hoax for all involved. The boy is not fooled by the plastic thing that does not provide food. I am at a loss to why we continue to try to shut him up with it when it clearly does not work as advertised.

The one piece of equipment that he seems to sleep well in is his car seat, manufactured by Death Trap Industries. He sleeps well in the car. The unfortunate side effect is when one goes to get him out of the car seat, he looks like Tricia Helfer snapped his neck. If they can send an infant across the galaxy in a chandelier and crash land him in a Kansas pasture, why can't they make a baby seat that doesn't feel like it belongs in a trebuchet?