First time readers: Find out more about The Red Thing here.
Have you ever noticed that it seems the cloth diaper has been done away with? Gone are the days of scrapping fecal matter into the toilet and then doing a load of laundry encrusted with dried crap. Oh sure, it costs boatloads more money to purchase disposable but what price are you willing to put on not playing with poop, right? Well, I wanted my boy so very desperately that, truthfully, I don't really care how much of his feces I end up handling. So luckily, as it turns out, my awesome Red Thing doubles as a diaper:
Or a loincloth. Really you can take your pick. See, not only can my kiddo use this soft and fuzzy Thing as a diaper--which I am sure would cut down on diaper rash--he can also be Mowgli for Halloween. Or he can wear it to Show & Tell in kindergarten and give his fellow five year olds a titillating speech on the clothing customs of the South African bushmen. Or he can take up sumo wrestling. The possibilities, along with the uses of The Red Thing, are endless.
I'd like to point out something else entirely. In the photo, just to the right of Garrett's ear, is a scrapbookish picture frame that my very good friend Michelle made for us when he was born. When I posted the loincloth photo I realized that newborn Garrett was there, next to jumbo toddler Garrett and I just do not have a clue where all the time has gone. Two years ago he was a fetus. Now he is posing in Red Thing photo shoots and cramming sticks of wrapped gum into his mouth behind my back. We've covered the fact that he's still not talking oh my gosh what's wrong with him but he communicates by the aforementioned grunting, pulling, pointing, and babbling. He COMMUNICATES! That infant just laid in the plastic bin under warming lights attempting to regulate his own temperature. He woke up one time during the first night of his outside life simply to hack up some charming amniotic fluidy gunk. He slept, he pretended to drink some colostrum, he pooped meconium (oh how Red Thing would have been ruined forever) and that's it. It's astounding to me that he has become a tiny little person with very strong opinions about feed me now and no I'd rather not have my diaper changed thank you very much. That newborn had my heart from the second he peered deep into my eyes. But that toddler has my soul. He has every inch of my being wrapped around the tip of his pinkie finger. He has me realizing that without infertility I might have had forty-two babies before it occurred to me that stopping would probably be a bright idea. My mind cannot fathom that he is the same kid that's in the picture. It's hard to believe he hasn't always been as long as the changing table or as hyper as an overexcited puppy. I never knew that I would love my child a little bit more with every day that passes, but I do. There are moments when I look back at the infant in those pictures and long for one more day with him sleeping soundly in the notch of my arm. But every day I long to see what tomorrow will bring in the life of my little Red Thing model.
Finally, happy half birthday to me.