After Audrey tried to settle him by nursing, it didn't take long to become obvious that he was very gassy and uncomfortable.
That meant desperate measures, so Casey danced him around on his shoulders, as Audrey followed with the laptop, playing "Donkey Riding."
There's not much Owen likes better than dancing on his Daddy's shoulders, and he was smiling, but still a bit uncomfortable. Casey handed him off to me, and he was still fussy and gassy, so I sat with him, loved him, rocked him, rubbed his back and tummy, and finally, half an hour of rocking and lullabies and considerable farting later, he fell asleep.
We have teamwork down.
Recently I found out that a relative I'm not very close to officially "disapproves of" our "lifestyle."
Argh, I hate that word, "lifestyle." It doesn't work for sexual orientation, it doesn't work for polyamory -- at least, not as we live it.
Our lifestyle involves dancing a little boy around until he can fart a little. It involves making sure well-baby appointments are scheduled so that at least two parents can go, because we're all interested. Usually, three of us go. It involves laundry and walking the dog and figuring out which furniture needs child safety and earthquake safety retention straps. It involves going to bed at night exhausted and waking up delighted to share the dawn with one of the most confident, joyful children I've ever known.
So for whichever folks out there disapprove of our lifestyle? this is what you're disapproving of. And I don't need your kind of approval.