Father and Son

I obviously write on this blog from my perspective. In my imagination, part of what that means is that when Conor gives a hoot and reads this blog as an adult or a young father he'll learn a lot about my experiences of being a new mother and what he was like as a child. For instance, unless I blog about it, I'm sure I'll forget our current nighttime ritual in which he comes out to find me before he goes to bed, gets behind me, and grabs a pocket on my jeans as I sashay into his room singing "BOOTY TRAIN! BOOTY TRAIN!!"

But what it also means is that Conor won't necessarily learn about all the rituals and special things that he and his father have shared growing up, including one that still warms Dave's heart--when I was in Atlanta and a horrible storm stalled over our house knocking out the power and rattling the windows and Conor was having a really hard time staying asleep until Dave asked him if he wanted to sleep in the big bed and Conor cried "YESSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!" and they cuddled for the rest of the night, happily and restfully sleeping.

So I shall now mention Dave and Conor's new bedtime routine, which is up there as One of Those Things You Want to Remember and You Won't If You Don't Write It Down:

After getting on his footie pajamas (because it's Winter and they are SO DAMN CUTE!), Conor stands on top of his changing table/chest of drawers and on the count of twee (One, two, tweeee!) and leaps onto Dave's chest wrapping his arms and legs around him like a little monkey. Dave supports him under his booty. They practice it several times on their own and then they call me in to watch their performance, my little monkey and his big Daddy.

So, I hope when Conor is reading this years in the future that he realizes that both of us were incredibly active in his life and that both of us have our favorite memories of him as a little boy.

End of the sappy, smoochie, baby blog post.