Semitemporariorphanism

After ten months of living with only the occasional fatherly interludes, we have established universal truths about Ryan. For instance, we know that if he is crying, it means one of three things:

• He's hungry
• He's tired
• Daddy is trying to put clothes on him

I know I'll get better at it, but for now, it's like trying to put curtains on a lawnmower. I don't know whether to start from the top or the bottom, what is supposed to fasten where, how it'll look when it's done, or, indeed, what the whole point is. And it seems the more he cries, the more the laws of physics prevent snaps from coming together.

I still love it when I am able to get him to fall asleep in my arms, giving Ainsley a mega-deserved break, but I have also learned that wearing a tank top is not the shirt to do it in. The boy's a yanker.

We are still trying tons of different foods with Ryan, and in the past week he's had his first taste of egg, yogurt, hamburger, and Pixie Stix. Turkey was his first "meat", a gerber-globule of pureed mush mixed with squash or something. We're just glad his recent gastrorectalintestinal issues seem to have passed (har!), so he's eating fewer fecal-forcing foods (though I did like singing "It's the Blue Prune Spoon!" to him at mealtimes).

Just say THAT four times fast.