The Best Baby In The World (And Her Schizo Dad)

Sorry if my blog posts about The Rozzle have been a little...waffling lately. No, really: I look back at recent posts about her, and I go from pulling my hair out in October to singing her praises in December to gasping for aid at New Year's...all of that must seem like, okay, dude, what the FUCK?!? So, please: accept my apologies. Because, of course, I now need to tell you about the best baby in the world.

Not...QUITE sure what to make of Wedgehead.

The best baby in the world goes to bed at 6:00pm, and sleeps for 12 hours. If - IF - she wakes up at night, she soothes herself back to sleep. Tess & I were sick this last weekend, and the best baby not only slept for 12 hours, but after *first* breakfasts, went BACK to sleep and let US sleep in until we had to go wake HER up at a quarter past eight.

Roslyn the Flapper. Tres chic.

The best baby in the world goes to daycare for the first time and immediately falls for Peyton, a smallish 10-month old who takes great pride in showin' Roz the ropes. "Hey, new girl...check THIS shit out!" (Proceeds to crawl circles around best baby, who watches with equal parts glee and awe.) The only time the best baby cried her first day at daycare...was when Mom showed up to collect her.

Mom...is so...comfy...zzzzzzzzz...

The best baby in the world goes on an avocado strike, which is tough because it was one of the few foods we'd started her on, but then makes up for it by taking not only to acorn squash (sort of a given), but ALSO green beans. Mmmm, green beans, cooked & pureed by Dad himself. With love. Er...sort of. Anywho, now that she's past her 6-month mark she gets to move on to a whole NEW batch of foods. Well, as soon as I can figure out how to cook a peach, that is.

The smile that will make Dad get me anything.

The best baby in the world is a joy to play with, replacing that OLD model who you just wanted to go back to sleep so she'd quit the fucking crying, already. The best baby interacts, chews, chortles, and engages in all manner of silly behaviour. She's like a puppy, only...y'know, BETTER. And the best baby is game for most anything: today she let us stuff her into the poofiest Anne Geddes-esque snowsuit imaginable in order for me to drag her to the post office so I could mail out my recent batch of eBay swag.

Uh...kinda snowing on me guys. Guys...?

Basically, that's where we stand. I am in, as author Armin Brott so succinctly puts it, the "honeymoon phase" of babyhood. Hope it lasts.

L8R, G8Rs!