– 4:26 pm

You’re out with your mother and grandmother to meet Rozalia. You guys should be back soon I imagine. I hoped to work in your absence but to be honest, I haven’t been up to much. It’s been a rather unproductive couple of hours. I do have a crockpot going though so dinner’s looking very enticing.

For lack of better adjectives, yesterday was… interesting. You were vocally unsettled when Liza brought you back home. She’d been out catching up with Gianna. You are currently the trophy she proudly parades and presents to all her friends. A major life accomplishment. It was Neta before Gianna, the women from our NCT group before then and Rozalia today. She flaunts you with triumph and jubilation. Thankfully, you seem to also love being out so the relationship is very much symbiotic. All parties get a piece of the pie.

But yes, yesterday. Interesting. Apparently, you were fine (as usual) until they tried to car seat you, which is when you went hysterical and ballistic. There was no comforting you either which for a parent (as sensitive as your mother) can be very stressful. To worsen things, you weren’t hungry or needed changing. Liza said you cried halfway through the journey back. I’ve heard you cry son. It can drive a car into oncoming traffic. Kudos to her for bringing you both back sane and alive.

The roundtable at home deduced you were probably gassy and needed relief. That’s all the prognosis I needed. With that, I took to the internet streets, combing for answers. I stumbled onto this and this which helped normalise the situation by explaining why and suggested methods of relief, respectively. Both were insightful and very helpful.

Though silent in Julia’s hands, I could see the strain and discomfort in your face, wrinkled like that of a 90 year old. Taking you from her came with screaming and yelling, so loud I’m astonished your lungs are still in place. I placed you on a square blanket on the floor going through the exercises in the video. God, you’re loud. I ignored it and before long, you were quiet again. I carried on. And soon, you were your usual self. It worked. Like a charm. Phew!

You stayed on the floor a while, happy to be left alone, enjoying your own company. You got all chatty and smiley. I don’t have the event in pictures (and if I did, I wouldn’t call myself a fit father). But I do have some from the week just gone.