I cannot think of a good substitute for the DSLR acronym that reflects: “Oh, Jack, you monkey-child, WHY did you have to reach for the expensive camera and toss it to the floor while you were sitting with me at my desk last week??”
I was trying to be all crafty there, and the truth is, I can’t think of anything clever to say other than my dear Jack boy yanked my camera off my desk and on to the floor sometime last week (or maybe before, I cannot remember), this while he was contained in my lap, and my camera is broken and I’ll have to send it off for repairs because there are no local camera repair shops. I think (I hope) it’s just the LCD screen that’s messed up. The lens that was attached to the camera at the time of the fall appears fine, the photo mechanisms seem fine, I just cannot view any of the shot stats or any of the photos after they’ve been taken (which kinda defeats the instant-feedback benefit of using a digital camera…).
Anyhow, that is what it is, I suppose. I do luckily have my fairly decent backup (fully programmable) point-and-shoot, so I can still take pictures, which is good because today my boys turn NINE MONTHS OLD. NINE. MONTHS. OLD.
My NINE MONTH OLDS are sitting on the floor over there, shaking maracas at each other and laughing. Jack is periodically stopping to “sing” into the toy microphone and Henry is trying to yank his blanket out from under himself. I wonder if I can finish the now-much-belated eight month review (to say nothing of the nine month review) before they’re ten months old…
Things like this happen, the whole Destructo-Jack-wiggle-worm-baby thing, and H asks questions about when we can start disciplinging them, which comes from equal parts inexperienced parent and stereotypical Germanness. The man cannot wait to instill some discipline in his children. Which is hilarious to me, mostly because the idea of trying to explain behavior expectations to an eight (ahem, NINE!) month-old is absurd. You can guide them in certain ways (like, say, ending a nursing session when a baby bites), but there is no “time out” for a baby. They just don’t get it.
It reminds me of those idiots who give you the stink-eye in a restaurant because your six month old is cooing and giggling and squealing, like ‘Can’t you control that baby?’ (Aside here to the not-so-swell person who once said that she wanted to “stop by [my blog] in the future, just to see how [I] handle things” now that I have children? Yeah, I *still* have not taken my screaming, overtired children into a nice restaurant for a 9:00 p.m. dinner seating. I’m afraid the closest I’ve come to that is taking my boys with me to a nice restaurant mid-week for a 2:00 lunch wherein I had to give Henry extra Cheerios to keep his delighted squeals to a reasonable, conversational volume. Any other instance of even slight fussiness has been met with immediate removal from whatever restaurant we were at, even McDonalds. I know you’re still waiting with bated breath to watch me eat crow for calling out a shitty parent for taking their fussy, whiny, overtired three year old to a very nice restaurant late at night, but I’m afraid you’re just going to have to wait a bit longer, because I still don’t find such behavior acceptable, and I can’t imagine when I will. But hey, feel free to keep “stopping by” to find out when that might happen…)
Those looks, as if you could control a six-month-old (I mean, like you’d want to stop them from cooing happily anyway…)? Yeah, they just crack me up, but they obviously also come from people who don’t have much experience with children, who think that “discipline” is something that you begin at birth, and I’m afraid my husband is still kinda one of them.
Anyhow, I set him straight, but I know it pains his dear German heart to know that it will still be some time before order can be brought from chaos (if ever)…
SO. Nine-month-olds in the house! Doesn’t that sound so much older than 8-month-olds?