Adventures in parenting hilarity

A.k.a., my husband is a whore for baby laughs.

So lately, the Hatchling is waaaaay into naked time. It’s funny, because as a newborn she hated being naked; take off her sleeper and she acted like you were actually removing her skin, and why did you hate her so much? Now, though, it’s a whole ‘nother story. (Yeah, I said “whole ‘nother.” I’m from the south, dammit. We get to do that.) Now, when it gets to be her cranky time of the evening, all we have to do is strip her down and she’s all smiles and kicks and stretches and chubby little arms waving in the air. Naked = awesome. Part of the attraction may be how brief it is. We are, after all, living in an old, drafty house in Minnesota in the middle of winter. So it’s not like we can really let her be unclothed for hours at a time. But if you ask me, the REAL reason she loves it so much is that her father has developed some stunning moves around taking her clothes off. It started with a fairly simple zipping off of her socks while saying “zzzzzZZZZIP!” with each one and waving her sock in the air. She was a big fan of that, and now the undressing routine has escalated to truly Marxian (Groucho, not Karl) proportions. This evening’s performance culminated with Mr. Squab whipping off the Hatchling’s pants, then flagellating himself repeatedly with them, interspersing the flagellations with a resounding “BUUUUUUURP!” The Hatchling could hardly contain herself she was laughing so hard. Hell, I could hardly contain myself. Who thinks of stuff like that? More importantly, will I be able to capture it on video? Because that shit needs to be shared with the interwebs.

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