First Bath

On my second night home, Daddy decided that I needed a bath. He said that I was starting to smell. Since my umbilical cord hadn't fallen off yet, it was a good old-fashioned sponge bath.

I just knew that I wouldn't like this one bit! So I delivered Mommy and Daddy a double poop just beforehand. But Mommy thwarted my objection by actually catching my poop with a wet wipe. Augh!!! My parents are just too smart.

Daddy did a great job cleaning me despite all my squirming. I tried to tell him that little boys are supposed to be dirty, but it just came out "Whaaa... Whaaa... Snuffle... Whaaa!"

Here's a picture of me post-bath. I am clearly contemplating how I will seek my revenge against such torture in the future. I still think the poop cannon idea is a good one. I think I just need to work on my execution.
They'll never see it coming!

Going Home

Mommy and Daddy were super excited to get to take me home. The nurses put me in Mommy's arms, cut off my house arrest anklet and then sped me downstairs where Daddy had the get-away car ready to go.

As they put me in this sage green contraption, a wall of heat and humidity engulfed my body. I tried to fight it, but I was no match to the typical DC summer weather. Within seconds, I fell asleep.

I don't really remember much from the seven-minute trip home. But I think Mommy and Daddy kept saying something about how small I was.

Welcome to the world... and my blog!

So, here's Mommy holding me in the Recovery room. It was cold. They gave me a bath. I don't like baths. They gave me shots. I don't like shots. They put me in this hat. I really don't like this hat. I do like Mommy though. And she really likes me. Plus, she gives me my food, and so, well, I love Mommy.















This is Daddy. He's okay. He generally changes my diapers and stuff like that.