Hugh is fussy today. Not in a sympathetic something-hurts-kind-of-way, but in a generally annoying, whiny way. It’s less like he’s upset and more like he’s hungover.
We all know that grouchy overserved feeling. That no matter how beautiful the sunshine or what friendly faces come our way that day, we’re going to view it through the prism of an achey, grouchy head.
So after multiple games of tall man jumping bean, killer attack baby and other activities that usually elicit a toothless hysterical smile, I simply gave up and stuck him in his bumbo (translation: creepy plastic green chair that’s molded to his body enabling him to sit up unsupported). I put in a Baby Einstein DVD and put him close to the television. He slouched back and sighed.
Then I worried, what if he’s going to be an annoying person? I mean, we all know annoying people, right? And at some point, those annoying people were somebody’s cute toothless baby. Noooo, Hugh. Please don’t be one of those people.
But then I remembered. He really is hungover. Grandma plied with him with sugar-dipped pacifiers last week. And today is day 1 without. What a relief. Go ahead and hang out in your bumbo as long as you want, kid. Tomorrow is a new day.