He is. No, really. Well, maybe “cute” isn’t the word. He had his index finger and his thumb in his mouth, and the other fingers curled under – most of the other fingers, that is. One was resting on his lip where I could see it. C’mon, a three-month-old flipping off his dad is cute, isn’t it? Isn’t it?
In related news, we went to an Art Deco exhibit in San Francisco today (he was very good, and got fawned over repeatedly, the shameless little flirt) and on the way home, the lad began crying. I began to sing “Hush, Little Baby”; I hate that song, though, so I changed it a little:
"Hush little baby, don’t say a word,
Daddy’s gonna buy you a… uh… mynah bird;
And if that mynah bird won’t talk, yeah, i can come up with something really cool to rhyme with ‘talk’ instaed of ‘sing,’ like…
Daddy gonna buy you a seventies pet rock.
And if that rock won’t do any tricks,
Daddy’s gonna buy you a bag of … no, a … box of Kix;
And if that box of Kix is stale,
Daddy’s gonna buy you a pet airedale.
And if that … puppy dog … bites you,
Daddy’s gonna buy you … aw, crap, what rhymes with…got it!… something new;
And if that something new’s no good,
Daddy’s gonna buy you… something… um… made of wood.
And if that thing of wood has splinters,
Daddy’s gonna buy you a tape of Shelly Winters;
(OK, no more stammering - Daddy’s on a roll)
And if that video tape goes blank,
Daddy’s gonna help you rob a bank.
And if we get caught and go to jail,
Daddy’s gonna help you to make bail;
And if the judge won’t grant us bond,
You’ll still be a pretty handsome blond!"
Mommy was amused. Well, she laughed at me – that’s amusement, right?
