The baby has The Cold. Still. Also? Tooth number 12, a molar, popped through yesterday. And? The baby is developing Opinions.
Opinions like: “No woman! Put me down! I was walking up those stairs for a reason and you have no right to infringe upon my civil liberties!” *Sigh* Even the baby is getting confused as to what the term “civil liberties” actually applies and/or means. Election years tend to confuse people that way.
And Opinions like: “I was gnawing on that wooden domino from my birth country, thankyouverymuch! How dare you take it away?!! Where is my attorney????? How do I contact the ACLU???”
And Opinions like: “That other Asian boy and that wispy, though very loud, blond-haired girl aren’t playing with me! They ran away from me! They are supposed to PLAY WITH ME!”
So, between The Cold, The Tooth, and The Opinions, yesterday was a very, very whiny, screamy day. He was unrecognizable. Literally.
That is why, after three days on the wagon, I fell. But I only drank half of a 20 ounce bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper. That’s only 10 caffeine-laden ounces. Only 10! That’s nothing. Right?!?! Nothing!!!!!!!!! And the rest of it is still sitting in my fridge. See? I can stop whenever I want. I CAN!!!
I am so pathetic.
Anyway, in other news, before I fell off the wagon and shamed my family for generations, I took Quinn and went to the grocery store. I figured the half hour drive there would give him time for a much needed nap, and it did. But that’s not the point.
The point is, while there, no fewer than a million people (okay, maybe fewer) stopped to oooo and ahhh at him, and wave and try to get him to say “hi.” (Side note: When I’m out will all five kids nobody ooos and ahhhs. They leave a wide berth between us and them, and/or look at me with great pity, and/or make comments about my army. So not kidding.) So, again, anyway, each time someone would wave and try to get him to say hi, he just got this shy little look and dropped his head a bit, and wouldn’t say anything. And the fewer-than-a-million people would say something along the lines of, “Oh, he’s being shy.”
Then I would reply with a friendly, “Yeah, he usually is,” while thinking to myself, “plus he’s only been in the country about four months and, doesn’t say hi yet anyway. But thanks for trying.”
When we got back from the grocery store, McH was finishing up the mowing and came in shortly thereafter. As he walked in the door from the garage, Quinn ran over to him with a huge smile on his face and said, “Hello!” with great clarity (unlike when he is playing with my phone and babbles a two-syllable, practically indecipherable “hello”).
McH, of course, responded with an equally big smile (well, maybe not quite equally — very different face structures you know, so I don’t think he is capable of matching the enormity of Quinn’s smile) and said, “Well, hello to you too!”
And then Quinn smiled again and said, “Hi!” and flung himself into his father’s arms.
I swear I am not making that up.
So, in about five years, maybe we’ll hear him say “hi” again.
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt says hello. Or hi. Take your pick.