Apparently...

Baby boys throw wall-eyed shit fits. Apparently, Baby boys are known for this. Apparently, Jax has them all beat.

What do you do when the baby JUST WON'T STOP SCREAMING???? And when I say screaming, I mean open mouth, throw head back, making no sound because he has screamed himself silent, yet I can still see the little throat hangy-thingy (uvula?heehee) quivering with each burst of air.

It doesn't stop with the vocals, either. His head goes back with such force that I am uncertain as to why he has not yet suffered whiplash, though most likely it must be because the rest of his body is writhing with the same amount of force that it all evens itself out. I'm no doctor, though. Apparently.

Oh, did I mention his body? How he has yet to actually fling himself out of my arms is truly a miracle. How I have managed not to slap him silly just to knock some sense into him is also a miracle. Apparently we are both heading toward sainthood.

Apparently, when he gets going NOTHING WILL STOP HIM. Not a binky, not a sippy, not food, not Mommy, nothing. And don't you dare try to help him, or he will beat you down. The kid ain't nobody's bitch, y'all. I tried to give him a bite of yogurt (his fave snack), and he threw the spoon in my face, while simultaneously flinging the yogurt cup across the room, over the coffee table and onto the couch. I will be sending him the cleaning bill, of this you can be sure.

Apparently, if he wants you to sit right THERE and listen to him wail, he will let you know. After the yogurt debacle, I took him into the carpeted playroom, and set him on floor (set, flung-- whatever) so when he went on his rampage he would at least be padded (hmmm...padding...). I then turned and headed into the living room to wipe up the yogurt, only to be stopped short by an Alphabet magnet to the head.

Apparently he wanted war. So I ate his yogurt. In front of him. As he screamed. And then he stopped.

Apparently, I rock, and you should all bow down to the one and only MOTY.