And the hits just keep on comin'

We've begun the food business. Two nights ago we were all in the kitchen, and the bun was agitated and restless. After ruling out the usual suspects of frustration I said, "Maybe he's bored." And then it dawned on us: the only one not eating was him.

One minute you're eating fried chicken and broccoli, the next minute you're whipping together a mean bowl of rice glue for your toothless son while setting up the video camera.

And while we filmed it, and cooed and oohed and aahed over the affair, he seemed to take it all in stride. "Interesting. So this is what we're doing now, huh? Okay then." To him, it was just one more new experience to lump in with the hundreds of new experiences he's had since birth.

It goes without saying that we were verklempt. But feeding him is very entertaining, and my husband doesn't need boobs to do it, so he enjoys it too.*

Is he going to break my heart every day for the rest of my life?

*I should add that we're less excitedly waiting for changes in other areas as well; it seems that the bun's odour has gotten a tad whiffy in the last couple of days, if you know what I mean. I fear that changing the diapers just isn't going to be so cute anymore. We're drumming our fingers with rather less joyous anticipation for the first delivery.