He’s Jekyll and Hyde. I swear.
People stare at me in disbelief when I tell them he’s going through a rough stage. “Oh he looks like the Gerber Baby.” “He’s sooooo happy.” “He has the nicest disposition.”
Yeah. . .That’s why my Husband and I were tempted to pound Scotch at a children’s birthday party we attended yesterday. Bless parents that provide open bar at a birthday party. While he smiled and flirted with everyone, we sat there in complete exhaustion, shaking from his harrowing behavior earlier that morning.
He’s teething. Cranky. And doesn’t like to nap. When we are home, he demands nearly constant holding, jostling, and amusement. I seldom get to see that happiness or sweet disposition. His precious little face is red and contorted. He arches his back in displeasure. He hits me repeatedly with his rattle (I really should have taken it away before he left a mark.), and kicks me with his angry, beefy little legs.
Yet when we are in public, he’s the happiest, sweetest, sleepiest little fellow. People marvel at how docile and pleasant he is. There’s not a hint of his secret grouchy little alter ego.
It’s just a phase right? He’s not going to continue to screw with me like this? RIGHT?!
If it continues, I think he might have exactly what it takes to be a child actor. If he’s going to be tortured in his private life, we might as well capitalize on his public cuteness, No?