Fists of Fury

So, since C is my third kid, I didn't go "all out" during the baby buying phase before his arrival. That was partly because I felt doomed, but also partly because he was #3, and I'd already gone "all out" twice previously. Except for the newborn-sized clothes, just cause they are so damn cute and I'd never bought anything that little for any kid of mine. I did go "all out" for newborn-sized clothes. And I'd do it again, damnit.

But since I didn't go "all out" for the baby equipment, that's how C ended up with the el cheapo Pooh bouncy seat, instead of the fancy lit-up aquarium one or doubles-as-a-toddler-rocking-chair bouncy seat. No, C enjoys the $20 Pooh and friends bouncy seat, which we haven't even gotten around to installing batteries in. We're bad asses like that. So C sits in his battery-less therefore not so bouncy seat oogling at the Pooh and Tigger stuffed toys dangling in front of him.

In the past few weeks, C has discovered his hands. This has been so cute to watch. Subsequently, he has also discovered that his hands can also serve a dual role as FISTS! He's often doubling up his fists and sticking them up at me. See? See?! Here are fists!! Now these hands are multifunctional, not just purely for decoration anymore. And in his opinion, these hands taste pretty damn good, too. They could just be the best friggin' hands C's ever tasted. Since the somewhat miraculous discovery of his fists, C has a new goal in life: To kick Pooh's (of the bouncy seat dangling fame) ass. Anytime I look over at my little darling, ensconced in the seat, he's pummeling the bejebus out of poor helpless Pooh, and growling all the while. The hell it's so much friendlier with Pooh, that's the thought clearly running through his little baby brain. This kid's had enough of Pooh pompously taunting him and he's not gonna take it anymore, damnit.

Once C feels he's put Pooh in his place, he seems in a much better humor and appears to have quite a sense of accomplishment. So take that, rich Disney bastards.