But somebody around here is in a bad mood. That would be me, in case you’re wondering. Actually, I’m doing all right. It’s been a week of Seamus acting good even though I’m with him constantly. Because kids act way worse around their parents, I’m convinced. His vocabulary is expanding to include many more animals, body parts, demands, but still no real verbs or adjectives. He also has decided that Patrick is the only one who can put him to bed. I’ll get him into his pjs and we’ll sit for a minute, reading, before he starts calling for “dada, Dada, Dadeee!” and as soon as Patrick comes into the room to put him to bed, he throws his little arms up for Patrick, turns to me, waves, and says “bye, bye.” I get it, kid, it couldn’t be more clear. It’s also hilarious, and when the next baby comes, we’ll be glad Seamus wants daddy time at night.
We’ve also started asking those terrible questions: “Seamus, who do you like better, mama or dada?” “Dada!” “Seamus, who’s smarter, mama or dada?” “Mama!” –So at least he gets the answers right…
I’m not overly anxious or anything, but this baby is welcome anytime.