Day Care

We were shooting for a 7:00 am departure (at least I was). We left at 7:38.

It's Finn's first day at day care; my first day back at work after vacation, and of course, today is the day that the front door knob fell off. It's been jury rigged for over five years with a stripped screw held in place by a small square of electrical tape.

I'm not sure how I feel today, aside from rushed. It's been rather stressful since we came home. There's a lot to do, a lot on my mind, a lot of external expectations.

June 1. It's summer. The List is huge. This summer we have a one-year-old boy at home instead of a fetus on the hospital, which makes this summer 100% better than last, and it has a different set of challenges: organizing a tag sale with a one-year-old; home improvements with a one-year-old; gardening with a one-year-old.

He's not crawling yet, but he'd working on it. We feel like he's one brain click away from getting it figured out. He's consonant babbling now, too, the most prominent sound being "da da da." I am not only trying to connect those sounds with the word and person of "daddy," but with a certain Police song. Day care will probably speed him along with both crawling and walking. As well as getting six and other bad habits.

His other progressions are little things we notice, like him trying out his upper register, babbling in a high-pitched, sing-song voice. Holding toys up over his head. Giving thing to us. Picking up food, putting it in his mouth, and releasing it so it stays there. And he's happy. His default state is happiness, and everything else is a small diversion from that state.

Oh, and his bottom teeth are coming in. We can hear them clacking against the juice glass, and we can feel them, but it's hard to get in there and have a look because he's too busy for that.