Last night was cake. Which surprises me as much as anyone. Watching my 10 month old son by myself I fully expected to be torture. (and I mean foreign country torture, not United States-level torture. But I digress.)
Our only fussy moment of the night came when we were at church. He made it almost all the way through the baby's bible class but then he got upset. It seemed when I got him that he was looking for Mommy. He did the same thing as we left the building after services were over. It was sweet and just a tiny bit heartbreaking.
Mommy will be back Friday afternoon, which means baby and me get to spend another night together tonight. My mother had graciously offered to watch him (of course she wouldn't just want him to herself would she? ;-P) and I considered the offer seriously. But ultimately I decided that I wanted to spend some bonding time with him. So far I in no way regret the decision, and grandmother is on tap to see him Saturday.
One more thing. This morning in my car on the way to his Super-Sitter, I kept glancing back over my shoulder to where he was in his car seat. And everytime I did he was looking at me and laughing. So we reach one of two conclusions, I need a haircut so bad I resemble Bozo the clown, or my son is just as happy as a lark in the mornings. Of course the answer is C) All of the above.
Having a morning baby is a blessing. Because mornings are hard enough on parents. I can't imagine goign through them with a fussy kid every day.
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