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Jonas the 3 Month Old Wonderboy

Why no, I don’t think I’m over using the term “wonderboy”. You see, we do call him Wonderboy. Every time I lift him into the air, like so:

We always say, “WONderboy!” And it’s not just me. I may have started the trend (hip young trend setter me) but many have taken to holding him high and crying “WONderboy!”

I just had a great idea. Every three months I’ll do a nice WONderboy pic so we can see his progression. Well, I’ll do this until I can’t lift him anymore. Then I’ll make Matt do it.

(Why, yes, I have been drinking wine in early celebration of my boyfriend’s win.)

(Don’t even get me started on Harry Potter being taken away from the winter line up.) (Long story.)

ANYWAY, I’ve decided to take a break from the political talk to talk about my son. Although I’ve done my best to keep political talk out of my blog (the last couple posts excluded) my mind has reached it’s limit of political news.

(“OOH! “Frost/Nixon” That looks like a fun political thriller! Let’s go see that!”)

FOCUS, Marcoda! It’s your son’s three month anniversary dealie today.

I had to pause for a moment in deep reflection of my son’s connection to Barack Obama: they share birthdays and his three month life anniversary falls on the same day Obama is (hopefully) elected. I’m not saying this is a sign that Jonas will be president someday but let me just point this out:

Matt shares his birthday with John Lennon. Matt is also a musician.

Jonas shares his birthday with Barack Obama. Perhaps he’ll be mayor or something.

Perhaps I’m relenting the fact that the bottle of wine is empty.

Back to my son and all his 3 month glory. It’s hard to write about an infant. Jonas is, well, a baby. He sleeps, he eats, he spits up, he smiles, spits up, coos, spits, poops, smiles, coos, spits and well, spits up some more.

Yeah, about that. I thought he was getting better with the whole reflux thing. The last couple weeks, not so much. But then I discovered MIL stopped using his gas drops once he started his perscription and I forgot a couple doses of the perscription and well…that may have explained the relapse. We’ve fixed everything though and have gotten back in the mediciney routine so here’s hoping the spitting up lets up a little. Gramma Rosie is wearing a smock for crying out loud.

He’s giggling. Like actual giggling. It’s a little strained, like, he’s trying really hard but can only get out breathy little laughs. It’s very cute. I’ve only seen it twice (in response to Daddy) but apparently he does it all the time for others. Jonas doesn’t love his mom.

I can respect that.



So yeah, he’s laughing now.

The other day his Godmother was over taking pictures and he rolled over from his back to his tummy.

Slowly but surely.

On a slight incline.

But still. He rolled over.

Ok, we’re not going to count that as a first but is a step in the right direction.

He’s been playing with his My First Tools set. He likes the hammer the best. He can’t pick it up on his own but if I wedge it into his hand he holds on and shakes it around a bit. OH! And he’s been kicking his fishy’s ASS on his little bouncy seat. You’d think that fish would learn to stop with the smack talk but no…

God, what else is he doing. OH, he’s sleeping virtually all night in his crib. He wakes up once or twice during the night but goes right back to sleep when I stick that binky back in his mouth. I keep watching him eat his teeny fingers, I keep his hands uncovered at night with high optimism  but the kid won’t make with the self-soothing.

Really, he’s just a wonderful, strong, sweet well behaved little boy. We love him and can’t get enough of him. I squeeze him and smell him and sing to him and make some of the highest pitch sounds you’ve ever heard. Matt does much of the same, although not as high of a pitch. Jaden is enamored with her brother. She kisses him and sings to him and…

Godzdammit. We all love him.

McCain conceded at 10:15pm CST Tuesday November 4, 2008. Halfway through his speech Jaden requested my presence. I lay with her, a giant grin on my face, tears in my eyes. After she fell asleep I went to check on my son.

I pulled his tiny fist out of his sleeve and brushed his fuzzy head and thought, “Maybe. Maybe someday you will be president.”

Happy 3 Months, Wonderboy

Happy 3 Months, Wonderboy


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