John III has had the free run of the first floor of the house, had decided against a playpen figuring he would get sick of it too fast and just cry as soon as he was ever put in there. Childproofed the outlets and spread his toys about, did not really have to remove much in way of nick nacks, not much of that to speak of thankfully. That one thing we did have to move was an empty McCoy two quail planter(thanks Aunt Penny) that was on one of the end tables. Was not going to move it because it weighs like 12 pounds and did not think he could move it. The Boy is strong, he could probably rip a tire from a car if he decided he wanted to put it in his mouth. So of course he pulls it off the end table, and of course it was me that was not watching him. Good thing he did not have any body parts under it when he dragged it down, that could have been a nasty bruise. It sounded like a boulder hitting the hardwood, did not even break, thank goodness.
   Brother/Uncle/Godfather Jeff(rey) stopped by the house the other day and noticed that there were baby toys randomly strewn about from the front door to the kitchen. Little did he know that the toys were not randomly strewn, that were strategically placed in the path of one attention seeking baby. I explained to Jeff that since John is not hungry, putting him in the highchair while Kayla and I have dinner is cruel. But having him on the floor around the dinner table, he would just claw at your legs for attention. So the plan was to try to keep John occupied with toys in way of an obstacle course. So placing John on the floor, at the far side of the house, farthest from the kitchen, we can usually get about 3-4 bites of dinner before he makes it to the kitchen to start chewing on our ankles. Have to stop doing this though, he is starting to show off by jumping over some of the some of the smaller stuff, like the Fischer-Price schoolhouse. Now if I just wear boots at the table, it takes him longer to chew through and get my attention.
   Just a few months ago when John cried, it really bothered me. It was more like screaming; I do not see how anyone can say that a baby is fussy. Fussy means a little hungry or wet, it seems Kayla was sometimes fussy. Not John, when he cried I thought he was caught in one of those leg traps that usually get set out for bears. Now the crying does not get to me like it once did. All you can do is run the standard cry drill, try a bottle, change the diaper, see if he wants to be held or rocked to sleep. If  that does not work, my ears are usually ringing by then, signaling long term ear damage so I just hold him and try to comfort. Some of the guys and I helped Uncle Gene cut down some brush not too long ago with a chainsaw. Pretty hard work, but the sound didn’t bother me.
Daddy
7-16-00