John Cave Osborne
There was so much I had to get used to as a new dad, diaper changing and long hours being chief among them. But they weren’t the only things, mind you. I also had to learn the entire baby lexicon. Suddenly my world was littered with new words and products I had yet to master and often confused.
Like the glider and the bouncy seat. They look identical to one another—a combination between a tiny basinet and a car seat—but they perform different tasks. With a flip of a switch, a glider actually moves your baby gently to and fro, while a bouncy seat provides subtle vibration.
No. Not that picture below. Luke’s hair looks perfectly fine there. Maybe a touch long, hence the curls. But that’s not what I’d call bad hair.
That’s a cropped picture of my wife holding him on his first birthday (which wasn’t all that long ago) and I just love it, what with the whole wide-open mouth deal he’s got going on. And I love the hair, too. Yes, and again, it’s a bit long, but as of then, and as of now, in fact, we’ve not cut even the tiniest little bit. We’re just kind of going with it.
Just a quick note to address this almost-walking situation you’ve got going on. You’re so close! I mean, you lean on your little grocery cart and are able to walk all over the house. Same thing with that big plastic car you like so much.
It’s funny. Your mama and I can hear you coming from a mile away. Sometimes it’s your infectious laugh, no doubt. But most of the time, it’s the tell-tale sound emitted by your walker of choice.
But here’s the deal, buddy.
You know one little habit I have that’s just a touch annoying? I tend to change the lyrics of songs and sing them to whatever I’m doing. I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s annoying. Because, you know, it annoys me and all.
Still, I come by it honestly, if not absentmindedly, as (most) every occurrence is unintentional. And since I have four-year-old triplets and a baby, that means I often catch myself singing made-up lyrics pertaining to them. And in so doing, I’ve decided that pop stars are missing out on a goldmine of inspiration. They really should start mining the little ones for their material.
If they did — it might sound a little like this:
When Caroline was pregnant with the triplets, she was relegated to bed rest for a total of nine weeks. The first one was spent in the hospital and luckily for us, coincided with a time our daughter was away at the beach with her biological dad.
The next four were spent at home and given Caroline’s limitations, they were difficult, but not as difficult as they would have been had she remained in the hospital. Which is exactly why I knew I was in real trouble when her doctor ordered her to return to the hospital for what wound up being the final four weeks of her pregnancy.