Lachrymose Mommy Musings

Rosco* is four weeks old today...or will be in about 45 minutes, anyway. I scratch my head in wonderment of how fast the month has gone past. Not only do I feel like time is slipping away from me, but if I take my eyes off the kid for a split second, something about him has already changed.

He's gone from being a placid little cuddler to an often-cantankerous chubby-cheeked leg-kicker who has beat the shit out of me over the past two weeks. (It's just a little colic; 20 hours of the day he's perfectly amenable to behaving like a civilized adult human being.) He's had a hell of a bout with baby acne and has learned to jut out his bottom lip and pout when he's feeling his demands aren't being met. He has learned his first non-cry syllable: "Gah." He has discovered the wonder of holding his head up like a little turtle while he's on his belly.

I've been pondering whether or not my kid has a personality yet, which I know is a dumb-ass thing to worry over. Of course he has a personality, whether I can identify its components or not. I have myself been told in the past that I exhibit absolutely no personality, so chances are that he favors me more than originally thought and chooses not to go the extrovert route. We'll see - when he starts hiding under his bed with a flashlight to read and pretend that he's in his own personal tent, we'll know for certain.

*One of many nicknames that have evolved from interacting with The Kid, this one being the one I use when he's behaving like an ill-mannered long haul trucker. Rosco = Roland Scott.