Hey, DJ!


Thankfully, the rumours are true: Baxter’€™s fourth month of life is proving to be very exciting. We now have an excer-saucer that’€™s getting a workout’€”it turns him into a small, spastic DJ (and I love the tray, aka puke-catch basin). Now some toys are being thoughtfully assessed before being discarded. Little hands are probing, and during sushi last night, a small plate almost went flying. Being on guard for Mr. Grabby Hands marks the dawn of a new stage.
More to the point, I can play guitar to the little fella and he is actually interested. He cocks his head at the sound hole, and is fascinated by my strumming hand. My falsetto is particularly entertaining to him (although rather strenuous on the vocal cords). But whatever’€”I’€™m a sucker for an audience that can’€™t get up and walk (or crawl) away. Let the absurd songs ring throughout Casa Bond!

Finally, Amy insists I retell our most recent adventure in this blog. Just the other morning, Amy planned to head to the studio early, leaving me charged with full-time care to drop Baxter off following his afternoon nap. So arrive at the studio I did, with a clean and happy Baxter Bond in arm (proud is an understatement). Proud, that is, until I was asked where his ‘€˜kit’€™ was as he was in need of a change. Well, it was forgotten, of course’€”but look at how fancy he was in his sparkling new outfit. (That’€™s strange’€¦why is there a pocket located on his back shoulder blade?) Turns out my proudest moment consisted of delivering a soiled baby, with nothing but a complex outfit on backwards. Luckily, he was accompanied by some big smiles.

And I honestly thought I nailed it.


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