As the title says, this one’s two fold:
First, as everyone in the world heard/read/saw Falcon WASN’T in the balloon. But I can’t help but be a little disappointed about that. Not because I think there is some underlying conspiracy theory to boost the Dad’s popularity in the public eye, but because it would have been so effing cool if he was in there. Scary as it would have been, had it played out that Falcon was flying that monstrosity of a balloon and he had a safe landing with only a permanently high pitched voice in exchange for the raddest afternoon of his life, it would have been EFFING cool. Can you imagine going to school the next day and being like “yeah, I flew 50 miles across Colorado in a homemade balloon. And yeah, it hit around 7000 feet. And yeah, toward the end of the journey I started loosing helium and went into this wicked tailspin of a dive only to land in some farmers field who will now have to re-plow his farm because my balloon and all the cops and paramedics following me completely destroyed it.” What?! Does it get any cooler than that? I think not, and if I can can convince Mon, I will be designing a balloon of my own in the near future. But my guess is that I will not get the thumbs up on that project. Oh well, a Dad can dream right?
That was the first fold, now for the second fold (you know, the one behind that baby neck roll that you thought you cleaned well, only to find another roll with even more gunk in it than the first):
On Monday we gave R his first bottle, no not formula, just a bottle. An when I say we gave it to him I mean I gave it to him. And it was rad. Tiring, but rad. I have a new appreciation for Mon’s forearms, biceps, triceps, and shoulders. You wouldn’t think holding 11 pounds for 25 minutes without moving much would be that draining, but my right arm feels differently.
I think we’re pretty lucky with this kid. Well I know we are, but the context in which I am referring is that you often hear of parents having a hell of a time getting their kid to take a bottle. Especially when that kid has only known the boob. But Ronin, he took it right away, no questions asked. No “what’s this rubber crap your shoving in my mouth.” No “Why is this hairy man that is always making funny faces at me and is only good for wiping my butt and handing me to Momma when I need to eat trying to feed me.” Nope, he was on it. Well, once his parents figured out that the bottle was smarter than them and you have to remove the solid seal inside the bottle if you actually want something to flow from it. Who knew, I mean I figured it was just some kind of magic disc that only let the right amount of milk through. I was wrong. But once we got through that, he was sucking and gulping and within a few minutes he had chugged a good few ounces. It was like watching a frat boy with a beer bong.
We did this all in anticipation of getting away tonight for the premier of Where The Wild Things Are. Which we are doing. Which luckily has me so excited that I haven’t had time to worry about leaving the boy alone for the very first time. So tonight we go out. Alone for the first time since he squeezed his way into the world a little over two months ago. Wish us luck!