Yo Gabba Gabba

This baby is hilarious.

To begin, he’s a hoarder. He squirrels things away where I simply cannot find them. I live in an apartment in Manhattan, not a palace in Versailles, and yet I search high and low for a sippy cup lid; nothing. I look everywhere for this thing for three whole days.  On the fourth day it magically appears in the kid’s hand. I grab it and say, “Where was this?”

He looks at me and says, “Heh heh,” George Bush style.

He is also-finally-being weaned.

“Weaned?” you say, “He still isn’t weaned?”

And to you I say, “No.  No he’s not.”

He was almost weaned when he was twelve months old, but then we picked up and moved.  Weaning took no steps forward and ten steps back.  Now it’s officially on.  He has a bright blue LifeFactory glass bottle to drink milk from every day.  I’ll tell you this-he’ll do it-but he’ll let you know he is none too pleased about it. We find the bottle in the bathtub, under the couch, behind a chair.

Today, my husband notices him walk into the bedroom WITH the bottle, but leave the bedroom WITHOUT it. This prompts him to search for said bottle which he found in the trash can underneath a pair of shorts.

The baby put the bottle in the trashcan and put a pair of shorts over it. Impressive.

The final baby story relates to how we often call my husband, Grandpa. He’s earned this moniker as there are some things in life he cannot understand: a Guns N Roses concert,  a night club, skate boards.

“Why,” he says, “why would anyone ever do these things? I don’t understand.”

I don’t know, Grandpa.

So, there is a kid’s TV show called Yo Gabba Gabba. People love it. They constantly ask me if the baby likes it, if we’ll see it live when it comes to town, if I saw Jack Black on yesterday’s episode. There’s a character in it named Gooble.  I decide in the middle of the night to download the first episode to see if the baby would like it.

I don’t know about the baby, but my husband is going to HATE it.

Lo and behold, I show him a clip, “Please,” he begs, “please turn that off. I can’t listen to it for another minute.’

Sorry Grandpa.

I show it to the baby and I SWEAR to you-whoever you may be-he stares at the screen with a look of utter disdain; lets out a deep, old man sigh; reaches over and turns it OFF!


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