My Son, the Cat

Maybe he's so good around animals because he is one, at least in part. Last night must have been a cat night. Daddy was holding Patrick and tried to get him to grab his hair the way he grabs mine. He leaned his head down so that Patrick couldn't miss the hair. Instead of grabbing the hair, though, Patrick leaned his head back into Daddy's, rubbing his cheek hard along his hair. It very much resembled the way a cat marks its territory by rubbing up against a person's legs.

I think sometimes he simply wants to create a bald spot on my head by pulling all the hair out in one area. Some moms lose lots of hair after giving birth, and when I didn't, Patrick wanted to make sure it happened anyway. By the time he grows up enough to not be carried everywhere, I'll probably be missing whole chunks of hair along my hairline on my right side, otherwise known as his handhold when he's in my arms.

Today has been another rough day dealing with a baby who is bound and determined to do everything Mommy says not to do. Breakfast took easily twice as long this morning. I had to persuade him to open his mouth for each bite (even though he was screaming for food until I had it in front of him), and then persuade him to open his mouth again to stop biting the spoon. He managed to spray flecks of rice cereal all over the kitchen and me by fighting with the spoon. It was a very tedious process.

Now that it's almost a birthday, it dawned on me yesterday how few pictures I have of Patrick in his birthday suit. The few pictures we do have are all of a wet Patrick sitting smugly in his tub. It seemed like it was about time for a different kind of picture of naked Patrick.