Weanie Baby

This morning was Evan's second morning of being weaned. It went better than yesterday, his first. He squawked at 5:45am and by the sounds of it he wasn't going to go back to bed. So I went in and offered him a bottle of chilled Rice Dreams milk (enriched and vanilla flavored, please). He took it happily, chugged down half the cup, sat on me, burped, and then hummed and played and chilled. We eventually made it out of his room and he happily played with his toys.

Contrast that with yesterday - he had his arms up in the air ready to be picked up when he saw me walk in through the door and gasped (where is Mommy?). Then he threw himself back in bed (he never does this - usually nothing can be as bad as The Bed). And screamed and cried. And continued to do that even when I picked him up and put him on my shoulder. He finally calmed down when he realized that I wasn't empty handed and grabbed the sippy cup of milk.

One should have no trouble attributing all future weirdnesses in his relation with his mom, dad, milk, boobs, things that look like boobs, people with boobs, and people without boobs to this one incident in Evan's young life.