The Kraken Will NOT Be Mocked, Part 2
I was just giving Gabriel his bath, and we were taking turns blowing raspberries at each other. It was highly cute, and then when it was Gabriel's turn he let out a giant raspberry at me - and a giant fart at the same time. I couldn't help it, I burst out laughing. When I recovered and looked back at him, he was glaring at me like I just shot his puppy, then his mouth turned down and opened up, and then he cried. Nothing would make him feel better, so I just washed him up and by the time I dried him off he was over it.
Yesterday I went to Target to get, in part, some new footie pajamas for the little kraken. His current ones are size 9 months and are woefully too small for him. Lo and behold, Target had not ONE pair of boys' footie pajamas in size 12 months. (We need footie pajamas even though summer is coming because it still gets pretty cool at night, and when it's warm at night we blast the a/c.) I looked through every aisle and rack in the baby department FOUR TIMES. Finally I had to settle for the only two pairs of size 12 months Gerber "union suits" they had in this hideous nightmare blue. (Like footie pajamas without the feet part.) When I got home and took them out of the packs there was a note saying that sleepwear should fit snugly on the baby because loose clothing more easily catches fire. I'm sorry, is there an epidemic of spontaneously combusting babies I didn't know about? Anyway, I washed the union suits today and dressed the Kraken in one after his bath. It's a good thing that kid doesn't have dignity yet, because after freaking out in the bath because I laughed at him, he would have slapped me for dressing him in this union suit. "Snugly?" Check. The thing is so tight on him that it looks like a puke-blue unitard. He looks like he could star in "Tron 2: The Blankey of Destiny." When I added white socks under the ankle cuffs, the look was complete. He could be in the touring company of a psychedelic version of "Cats." He looks like he murdered a Smurf and bathed in its blood. He looks like a background dancer in the opening sequence of "Staying Alive!" minus a braided headband. He looks like he could be an understudy for Blue Man Group.
I'll try to remember to take a photo tomorrow morning. The poor kid was already dead tired when I finally finished yanking this hideous thing onto him and put him to bed for the night.
Now that we no longer live two blocks away from a Planet Kids, I'm going to have to suck it up and go to the store on the corner of 9th and 5th for some proper footie pajamas. And by "proper" I mean, of course, designer knock-offs that will, in fact, likely spontaneously combust if we turn on the stove within 15 feet of Gabriel. It's one of those types of ghetto "Designer Discount!" stores that always smell like old lady and give you claustrophobia. Fun times.
Yesterday I went to Target to get, in part, some new footie pajamas for the little kraken. His current ones are size 9 months and are woefully too small for him. Lo and behold, Target had not ONE pair of boys' footie pajamas in size 12 months. (We need footie pajamas even though summer is coming because it still gets pretty cool at night, and when it's warm at night we blast the a/c.) I looked through every aisle and rack in the baby department FOUR TIMES. Finally I had to settle for the only two pairs of size 12 months Gerber "union suits" they had in this hideous nightmare blue. (Like footie pajamas without the feet part.) When I got home and took them out of the packs there was a note saying that sleepwear should fit snugly on the baby because loose clothing more easily catches fire. I'm sorry, is there an epidemic of spontaneously combusting babies I didn't know about? Anyway, I washed the union suits today and dressed the Kraken in one after his bath. It's a good thing that kid doesn't have dignity yet, because after freaking out in the bath because I laughed at him, he would have slapped me for dressing him in this union suit. "Snugly?" Check. The thing is so tight on him that it looks like a puke-blue unitard. He looks like he could star in "Tron 2: The Blankey of Destiny." When I added white socks under the ankle cuffs, the look was complete. He could be in the touring company of a psychedelic version of "Cats." He looks like he murdered a Smurf and bathed in its blood. He looks like a background dancer in the opening sequence of "Staying Alive!" minus a braided headband. He looks like he could be an understudy for Blue Man Group.
I'll try to remember to take a photo tomorrow morning. The poor kid was already dead tired when I finally finished yanking this hideous thing onto him and put him to bed for the night.
Now that we no longer live two blocks away from a Planet Kids, I'm going to have to suck it up and go to the store on the corner of 9th and 5th for some proper footie pajamas. And by "proper" I mean, of course, designer knock-offs that will, in fact, likely spontaneously combust if we turn on the stove within 15 feet of Gabriel. It's one of those types of ghetto "Designer Discount!" stores that always smell like old lady and give you claustrophobia. Fun times.