Hooked on a Feelin'

Now that Mrs. U is back to work, we're hoping to take advantage the opportunity to set a routine for the Undaling.

With a definitive drop-off and pick-up time at daycare, it should make things easier. After a few days, maybe the baby will know what to expect and when.

One thing that he's going to hopefully look forward to is the time between 7am and 730am. This has become "Daddy time" on a daily basis. Mrs. U gets him ready for daycare while I get ready for work. She leaves the house at 7am, and I basically have one half-hour to entertain the child.

Just me and him.

So far, so good.

I've found that I spend most of this half-hour making strange faces and noises. Most make him smile big and wide. Some make him break into his baby laugh, that is still in development. He is currently a big fan of the raspberry fart noise. This proves my theory that boys begin finding farts funny in the first three months of life. There's a fine line between comedy and horror, because some faces or noises make him stick out his bottom lip and wind up to cry. In these instances, I need to quickly summon some of my best material to turn him back around and get a smile.

This morning, I sang "Hooked on a Feelin" three times to him. I've read somewhere that baby's like repitition, and that seemed to be the case. Honestly, I don't really like that song. Personally, I could do without it. Somehow, I just started singing it. For the record, he really seems to appreciate the "uga-chucka, uga-uga, uga-chucka, uga-uga", so I may be able to drop the rest and just stick with that, but we'll see tomorrow.

As for today, he rewarded my pitch-perfect singing with a giant dolyp of spit-up down my shirt as I was getting ready to strap him in the carseat. Everybody's a critic.