Monday, September 17, 2012


   I keep telling myself the same old lie. A couple of lies, really. The first, and most common is "today might be the day." Today might be the day he opens those two adorable little hands, grabs on to that which he wants so badly, and drinks from it. I've seen him grab things. I know he can do it.

   No, today is not the day.

Ok, let's try again.

   Oh come on!! You are the laziest little sack of baby on the planet! Sure, that last video ended up bring pretty dang adorable, with all those sounds you were making and funny hand gestures, but that's how you keep getting away with it!! Being so stupidly cute! You love to recline and be fed like you are a Greek god who desires nothing but being fanned and fed grapes.
   Your about to turn a year old, and if things don't change soon, you'll be in high school expecting to make varsity because you always get what you want and then you'll find a job you hate because you have to actually do stuff and you'll get divorced and I'll never have grandkids and this can only be prevented if I can get you to hold your own bottle right now.

Even something like this is ridiculous, yet somehow better than me actually holding your bottle for you: 
Yes, I have precariously balanced the bottle on my shoulder so it will be drinkable. Ugh, I am the worst father ever.
   I keep telling myself another lie. I have myself convinced that one day I will put him in an empty room with a bottle and shut the door. If he wants to live, he'll feed himself. I just can't bring myself to do it, though. Who knows if he'll ever want to hold the bottle on his own, I doubt it if I keep on feeding him like this.

My mood: defeated
Wyatt's mood: indifferent
Listening to: nothing

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