He claws out of his swaddles. He occasionally screeches like a pterodactyl. He even spits acid at Dennis Nedry. Sometimes I wonder if our Little Bear is actually a little dinosaur. And, yes, the acid spitting is a joke. He spits avocados at Dennis Nedry.
Nicknames are kind of important for foster parents, especially if you, oh, I don’t know, write a blog. My understanding is that in order to protect the privacy of the birth family and the child, foster parents aren’t supposed to publicly share too many details. When conversing in person, there are fewer restrictions. But even in private, there are things we aren’t allowed to share such as the child’s last name, the birth parents’ names, etc. I probably took this a little bit to the extreme with our first placement and didn’t even reveal the gender publicly. (For those of you who have been losing sleeping at night over it, he was [and still is] a boy.)
It has been a busy five months. First off, you are probably wondering what happened to our little Baby Wookie. (Auto correct doesn’t recognize “Wookie”. What kind of a nerd doesn’t include Star Wars terms in the auto correct dictionary?)
I inadvertently took an extended summer vacation from the blog without really meaning to. Oops! I am planning to do the next several posts as “catch up” posts written after the fact. I’m not always great with my keeping my tense consistent and writing about the past as if it were the present will probably make things even worse. Grammar fascists, you have been warned. Continue reading “Adventures of a Baby Wookie/Groot/Ewok”
We recently escorted The Baron (Von Poopy Pants) on a trip to southern California. The trip went really well and there was a good deal of monkeying around. Other than the Baron’s luggage feeling incredibly disproportionate to his size, there were only a few small things that were different traveling with a small child.
It has been almost exactly two months since my last blog post, so it felt like time for another one. There are lots of reasons for the relative drought, but I won’t bore you with those. The most compelling one is that I have been busy being a dad. And playing Dr. Mario. And trying to keep track of The Baron’s binky.
We have lots of pet names for Mr. Baby (also known as Baby #2). For now, we will call him Baron Von Poopy Pants or simply The Baron. For those concerned individuals who read my last blog, the amount and frequency of poop has subsided, as expected although the odor has not.
I came up with the title for this post in kind of a hurry and when I read it upon review, I realized it might be interpreted different than my intention. So just to clarify, for those of you who thought I was considering eating a baby for Thanksgiving, rest assured, the thought never crossed my mind.
What I mean by No Baby for Thanksgiving is this: Our first foster placement ended just before Thanksgiving.
Over a week has gone by and what we initially expected to be a 3-4 day placement has been at least twice that long! Due to the nature of foster placements, I don’t feel like it is prudent to publicly share too many specifics. For that reason baby will just be baby and I will use gender neutral pronouns.