As in Pirate's booty, not the other non-g-rated kind...this is a family blog after all (or at least will attempt to be..I can't make any promises).
Last not WB and I babysat for the 9 month old of my dear friend ZuZu. I had spent most of Saturday with Zuzu and her baby, whom I call Mr. P, and he was definitely going through a phase of being really attached to his parents. He would reach out to me while simultaneously crying at my very existence, which was really not only adorable but totally hysterical. He's also teething, so he's sometimes in pain and lets you know it. Needless to say I was expecting Monday's babysitting gig to be a bit of a rougher ride than the last time we had babysat for them, and tried to prepare WB accordingly, warning him in advance that it may not be a super fun evening.
Remind me to always make such assumptions with our own child, that they may be proven wrong as spectacularly as these were.
Mr. P was a complete angel from start to finish, and we had a wonderful evening. I loved watching WB interact with him, and loved the fact that when WB left the room, Mr. P even cried for him. I have never had a doubt that WB would make a wonderful father, and spending this time with WB and Mr. P simply confirms it for me. I'm sitting at my desk smiling like a fool at the mere memory of the two of them, both adorable in their own way, playing together on the floor. I don't even know who was cuter. I do know that I fell in love with WB just a little bit more, if that's even possible. Just as I do every time he talks to the Little Funky Monkey (which at least once a day, if not more)...its amazing how each moment of this journey plunges us even further into the depths of a truly beautiful intimacy.
But I got a little off track there with my sappy sentimentality...it happens. Blame it on the damn hormones.
Zuzu has been an angel from the get-go, helping me with everything from lending me maternity clothes to helping me when I thought I was going to have to change midwives due to a particularly nasty interaction with a particularly nasty nurse at her practice. Last night, after offering me a half gallon of milk to take home, she busts out this rather large plastic baby tub overflowing with baby clothes and says its ours. What?! We won the baby clothes jackpot! And they're boy clothes, which means we can use them no matter what we're having (I have absolutely no problem dressing a girl in blue, in fact I like the idea). There is so much booty in our treasure chest, its super exciting! Of course when we got home I had to take out and examine absolutely every single item of clothing that was in there, cooing and ooohing over everything in sight.We also got a Snugli and a portable chair that attaches to a table, to take to restaurants from Zuzu as well...we totally scored the good stuff.
8 1/2 weeks and we already have baby stuff! Wow!
WB says that the Little Funky Monkey isn't even born yet and already owns more clothing than he does, which is probably true. (And its much cuter...)