My Baby Beat Me Up

You heard me, I won't be in for the rest of the week.
I told you! My baby beat me up!
No, that is not the worst excuse I ever thought up.

My nanny baby shall remain unnamed and (mostly) undescribed by my accounts, for your protection as well as his. You see, Baby is possessed of an unearthly adorableness, and to stand in full knowledge of his cuteness would be to spoil all mortals for ordinary human babies.

However, today I have to write about Baby, and describe his evolution in the past two months from placid, cooing, stationary four month old into Mr. Squirmy Determined Investigative Dynamo in a Diaper.

These days he is noticing every little thing in his environment, noticing details in things he's been interacting with for months, and getting much more mobile and active. He's not crawling yet but is very adept at inchworming and spinning himself around to any object he wants to smack, lick, and stare at intently.

He pays much closer attention to my facial expressions and stares at my mouth when I'm babytalking him, singing to him, or just making funny noises. He seems fascinated by the eating process, and watches people very closely when they eat or drink anything.

He is obsessed with phones and remote controls, and makes a mad grab for them whenever they're in sight. He has also discovered my class ring, and frequently makes a mouth-first lunge for it, usually after disabling me with a clever distracting swipe at my ponytail.

All of these new developments are exciting to be a part of, and a probably the best part of child care, but my affection for him has not kept him from, in the last few days, making a one-time love bite on my arm, banging my chin (and then nose) with the back of his head, and, this morning, punching me in the eye while lost in enthusiasm for a colorful fistful of ring toys.

Love hurts. But it's worth it.