Saturday, March 13, 2010

Go Speed Racer, Go

My little furry headed boy is now a helmet head. His torticollis and our slavish insistence that he sleep on his back (swaddled as tightly as a burrito) has resulted in a flat head. Parental guilt dictates that that be corrected, as well as the possibility that the bald is beautiful movement heats up in his later years. He has adjusted well; his parents? Not so well.

Our first experience with another little helmet head was at the plastic surgeon's office for Adam's consultation. I went over to talk to the mother (of said little helmet head) to find out how it was going and got a good look at her son. One eye was squinty, the other was as wide open as a cyclops. His skin around the helmet was red and scratchy and he looked, well, foul. She brought him over to see Adam, who eyeballed the boy and then looked up at me and said, "Ah Goo." "Ah Goo" is universal Adamese for, "what the hell are you getting me into." I assured him that he was too darn cute to get the permanent stink eye.

Take a look at the picture above. Yes, Ah Goo.

He's actually loving the helmet, though it's impeding some of his developmental milestones. For example, he's learned that crawling's more fun if he uses his helmet to propel himself forward rather than his hands. Look, Ma, no hands! I've caught him banging his head on the hardwood floors and deliberately rolling into furniture just to experience the inner helmet twanging sensation. The great thing is that he was helmeted during our viewing of the winter Olympics so he was able to bond with his own kind.

His sleeping sucks, truly sucks. I'm not sure if it's helmet related or teething related, but he's definitely regressed. Last night, he woke up every three hours. Crying, inconsolable. I can handle this much better now than when he was an infant and I didn't know what the hell I was doing. I still don't know what the hell I'm doing but I figure the child will sleep through the night at some point in his life. It now makes sense to me why people have children in their 20s and not their 40s; they're too young and dumb to have any expectations.

I hope all is well out there in blogland. More later.