So we've commented on Alexander being a relatively unfussy baby, and this is still true. He cries when he's hungry, and he cries when we change his diaper (he apparently does not like having his junk exposed). He may fuss a little when he's tired, and he puts up a real stink when his dad tries to make him do yardwork (well, someone's got to do it, right? and who better to pull weeds than the person closest to the ground?). But otherwise, he has a pretty even temperament.
We're starting to wonder, however, if his calm, quiet exterior doesn't mask the beginnings of a problem. Is our son a budding juvenile delinquent? Let's examine the evidence:
Exhibit A: As you can see in this photo, he's clearly been drinking. Now, I know what you're thinking: If he's drunk, then obviously his mother has been drinking. (Or you're thinking, alcoholism and its effects on babies is no laughing matter, in which case, you should probably stop reading this blog now, walk away, and never look back. It will only get worse, I promise you.) But his inebriation can't be entirely traced to the Jello shots I had at the Mommy Talk and Tea. Otherwise, how do you explain the flask he had tucked in the back of his diaper? Come to think of it, maybe that's why he doesn't like having his diaper changed. Mommy and Daddy will find his stash.
Exhibits B and C:
As these photos illustrate, our son is picking fights. Is this related to his alcohol consumption? Perhaps he started drinking out of frustration because the baby in the mirror kept threatening him but wouldn't deliver, or maybe he's drowning his sorrows after punching himself in the face. (Who are we to judge the pain of having undeveloped motor skills? On the positive side, we don't have to worry about him shoplifting--yet.)
And finally, may we draw your attention to Exhibit D:
Just look at those dilated pupils. And the way he stares at the elephant on his Gymini, well, clearly the makers of that infant product should have opted for "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" instead of nursery rhymes and Mozart. We don't think we need to spell this out for you. (And if we do, please see the aforementioned warning about reading this blog, walking away, ya da ya da ya da.)
So what do we do? Do we wait to see if this is just a phase he'll grow out of? Or do we take action now? He just got his social security card in the mail the other day, and the first thing Darrick said was "Good, now he can finally get a job." I just laughed it off, but now my laughter echoes chillingly in my ears. Maybe a job is just what he needs to prevent his descent down the slippery slope of addiction and moral turpitude. Perhaps, after changing his diaper (he's such a good pooper!) and some tummy time, we'll get to work on his resumé.