The Boy

Dear Squirmy,

It's been just over three weeks, but already, your mother and I can tell you a couple of things about your personality.

A) You're loud

and B) You like boobies.

Ok, I'm down with the latter, my friend. But we've really got to talk about the first one. Seriously. I don't remember your big sister ever being this vocal at your age. That might be because I hadn't started writing about things yet and I've blocked those memories. Or it could be just that I'm getting older and more crotchety, and my tolerance for noise is going down commiserately. But, dude, I've been looking for your volume control for the last week without much success.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not complaining about your crying. You don't actually do all that much of the wailing-gasping-sobbing thing. And when you do, you normally have a reason, like crap in your diaper, or desiring to renew your friendly aquaintance with a boob. But, son, I feel that someone needs to tell you the bare truth of the matter. And if it's not me, then I'm not sure who will. You're a grunter.

Seriously. Last night you came along with us to parent's night at the Queen's School for Girls. And you decided that you wanted a snack. I whipped out a bottle one handed to top you up, and you had at it. And the whole time, you made noise like it was your first meal since being retrieved from the wolf family that had been raising you before you came to us.

suck *grunt* suck *groan* suck *grunt* suck *sigh* suck *grunt*

They're "quite fussy" at Queen's, my boy, and we've got to keep our public grunting to a minimum. But I'll gladly trade you a public grunting session if we can compromise on the 4 AM wake-up grunts. I've been happy enough when you fall asleep in the crook of my arm at night, and have wired my brain to preternatural stillness to avoid dropping you off the side of the bed. However, I can rely on you to start wriggling and grunting several times a night, sometimes in a signal that you are feeling a bit peckish. Or hot. Or cold. Or would like one of us Tall People to wipe your down-below. But about half the time, it's apparently because you felt like a good twenty minute grunting session was just what the hour called for.

Trust me.

It's not.