Time Machine

timemachine

Baxter completed another doctor’€™s check-up with only a few tears (you wouldn’€™t think he could feel that needle through those massive mushy thighs). Yet he always leaves with a renewed confidence. I think he truly enjoys streaking. Even if it’€™s a short streak to the scale, there’€™s a thrill.
Brenda (my mother-in-law) watched disapprovingly at my best Will Ferrell impression’€”’€œStreaking through the quad! Streaking through the quad!’€’€”as I took a naked and grinning Baxter on a fast-paced jaunt through our main floor before bath time. Baxter was perched face out, with me gripping his chubby legs, in his patented Captain Kirk position. It was a rather bumpy ride (streaking after all). Needless to say, the photos won’€™t be on our Christmas card. Brenda was not impressed the camera was even out.

We almost missed the doctor’€™s appointment. We’€™re almost missing everything since the aforementioned Brenda has now left us to fend for ourselves. We were grateful for her help while Amy worked full time at the One of a Kind Show, but the Distillery Christmas Market goes through mid-December and we were getting used to the full-time assistance. Granted, she stayed longer than planned and won the heart of her wee grandchild, but what will come of us?

Luckily we have yet to harm Baxter, so the doctor says. The doctor also says he can eat these wee fluffy crackers, smooshed eggs and water from a sippy cup, and we have to start battening the hatches, installing baby gates and locking away poisons (where did I put my multidimensional phase shifter?).

‘€œAnd you think you’€™re busy now?’€ I can hear a chorus of ‘€˜other parents’€™ ask, laughing heartily. Not at us, I understand.

Well, maybe a little.

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