Simon went to daycare for the first time yesterday. Half day (3hrs) at the slope-side nursery at Crested Butte. Here’s his report card from “Camp CB”:
Oops. He decided to eat it. It read:
played with exer-table (we don’t have one of these at home)
Played with baby toys
Bottle 1:20pm, 5oz.
1 BM (dirty onesie)
3 hrs of child-free bliss, snow and speed for Momma and Daddy. Priceless!
Simon, meet Wilber the Weimaraner, Mike and Karen’s dog. Wilber, meet the small human, Raquel and Peter’s baby.
They hit it off right away. Simon drooled. Wilber drooled. Wilber gently but enthusiastically licked up all the drool.
Then Wilber barked and Simon burst into tears. We’ll try again after Simon’s nap.
Btw, we’re in Crested Butte, CO, at Mike’s family’s cabin. I was hoping to ski until I accidentally kicked my suitcase while packing in a rush yesterday.
Is this a sign that Simon is developmentally ready for solids?
I was trying to read the other day so I let him play with one of those annoying reply-by-mail cards that’s always falling out of magazines.
Before I knew it, he bit a hole in the paper. Well, actually he slobbered and drooled enough to gum off a piece. I went fishing around in his mouth for it, but it was gone. Down the hatch!
We were planning to keep him on momma’s milk for 6 months. Maybe he’s trying to tell us that he’s ready to branch out from breasts. Or maybe he’s just tired of board books and wants to read some ambitious long-form journalism.
No, we’re not planning on going anywhere exotic any time soon. But it never hurts to be ready. So we went to the post office to get Simon’s passport. (Both of us, so one of us doesn’t kidnap him and flee to another country.)
Peter propped him up against the white wall of the bathroom. I snapped a photo and after some choice words for the printer, this was the result:
Not the most flattering shot of our adorable child, but we thought it would do. But at the Glassell Park post office, the postal service worker didn’t like our photo. She said that the background wasn’t white enough and Peter’s thumbs shouldn’t be in the shot. And she hated babies. Well, she didn’t say that but it was clear.
I explained that Simon couldn’t sit by himself yet and tried to reason with her. But in the end, we paid $15 more to get it over with already. (We had already made 2 trips to the Highland Park post office but the lady who does passports was never in.) We had to extract a sleeping Simon from his car seat, and balance him on a stool without a back. Meanwhile, the line of people waiting for service got longer.
Actually, it was just our local greasy burger joint.