I found my belly

Quinny has the roundest, most Buddhist, best filled out belly ever and he knows it. He's big into having a food filled evening routine. He gets home from daycare around 5:45 and wants some snacks. He likes to hang out with me because I'm usually in possession of the salty ones. I am looking for chips and dip, or his and my personal favorite; pretzel rods. He'll take the whole stick right out of my mouth and munch a way. Being from Wisco I have developed a taste of dipping that pretzel rod in some port wine cheese spread. You put a big ol' hunk of that on the end and give it to him and you have a happy camper. After chowing down some snacks he'll get his dinner, which is fruit or vegetables (or both) and then a main course. He'll get that down, impatiently grunting through it and by that time we'll have dinner ready to go for us, which means he wants to eat some more. So, he'll then pick off our plates until we are finished with dinner. This results in the awesome beer belly referenced earlier.

He has gotten to the age now that he not only knows about the sweet bulbous but appreciates it. After dinner we have play time for an hour or so before he starts getting ready for bed and he has started lifting up his shirt a bit and caressing that globosity before patting it proudly with both hands. It's quite full of dinner making it hold it's shape, all full of nourishment. He has advanced his appreciation so much for this orbicular piece of the anatomy that he's starting to love mine, which is not the same and not nearly as cool. I'm usually on the floor at this time of night to be on his level and interact with him so he has started lifting up my shift and inserting his finger in my innie, which is met with a jovial giggle not unlike Santa's. He gets quite the kick out of this little experiment, which means he has moved on to Mom's. Last night he frantically looked for the dog's. Much to his chagrin, upon realizing the dog is naveless, which brought up peculiar questions from the wife about how dogs are born, he moved back to mine. Yes, you do turn into a bit of a weirdo when you add children to your household. (And for the record, dogs do in fact have umbilical cords and should have a belly button if you can find it).

And since I can't think of a logical way to transition from dog umbilical cords to babysitter I am just going the non-eloquent route and bluntly stating tonight social experiment 101 begins. We have a babysitter coming to put the Qster to bed while mom and dad go out - alone. When saying it you need to provide the proper context to give this statement its fair due. Think cherubs blowing horns, streamers falling from the sky, confetti being showered upon you, a champagne glass being thrust into your hand and glorious music beaming from the heavens. This is our first night out Quentinless. Really, it's an experiment to see if he can fall asleep with someone else putting him to bed and if we can enjoy ourselves, without worrying to death that he's okay, out on the town. I write experiment because we have a concert to go to next weekend and we first want to make sure an axe murderer isn't the newly hired babysitter. We are only leaving for a short evening out but enough time to test the waters. We are very excited. I'm sure there will be some updates in coming posts on how it turns out.

Here are a few shots of him attacking a banana and I do mean attacking. As in he outflanked the banana's position and put Mr. Banana to a horrendous death down the pie hole. Do you see that last one of "Whatta you looking at Banana? That's right I own this banana..."