My child is a mover and a shaker.
If he starts fussing — it’s almost always nothing that a walk with a bounce in your step and a constant patting of his back can’t cure.
Or put him on your knee and bounce him non-stop.
Or cradle him in your arms while bouncing your legs so he feels like he’s in a vibrating chair. (But whatever you do, do not put him in a vibrating chair. You must be the vibrating chair.)
Or sit with him in the rocking chair.
Or you can even put him on his play mat so he can kick his arms and legs like crazy.
But whatever you do — do not stop moving.
I totally do not mind that he’s like this. I think it’s kind of cute. And I love that he’s so active and likes to play during the day.
The problem comes in when we are in the car.
He has to be restrained in his car seat like he is being prepared for the shuttle launch. And we live in Atlanta. You know what that means? Traffic. Lots and lots of traffic. Lots and lots of stopping. And starting. And stopping. And starting. And…
Today we ventured out to visit Kevin’s parents at their house since Kevin’s grandma was visiting from Illinois. I thought we would leave the house after one of his morning feedings once he seemed tired enough and it was past the bad traffic time. So he ate, fell asleep and we started out.
And we got about 5 minutes into our drive when we came to a complete stop on the interstate. For an accident I never actually saw. (Don’t you hate that? If I’m going to have to be inconvenienced for your accident, I should at least see why! I only know it was an accident because the billboards said so. Boo.)
Anyway, Tom thought it sucked too.
So I kept trying to leave a bit of space between me and the car in front of me during our 45 minutes of stoppage so even when everyone else was at a complete stop I could keep a slow roll going. I’m nothing if not crafty.
We finally got going again and made it to our exit. By this point, Tom was kind of over being in the car with me. Or he was over Taylor Swift singing about her Romeo. Or he was over me trying to sing over Taylor Swift. Whatever the reason, Tom wanted out and I wouldn’t let him because babies aren’t allowed to hitchhike.
And then we caught every. single. red. light.
I mean it. Every one. It was painful.
I actually had to turn Taylor off and just start singing my own songs hoping that would help (Which is miraculously did for the most part. Take that, Tay.) while reaching back and shaking his car seat back and forth so he was moving even if I wasn’t.
Dear City of Lawrenceville: Time your freaking lights!
By the time we made it to the grandparents house, I was exhausted and Tom had a gooky eye from crying.
Like I said, I like that Thomas is an active, moving baby. I feel like it’s a little insight into his personality. And so far, I think his personality is a little bit nutty. And a little bit rock and roll.