Paxton in Concert

This week, I took Paxton to the local library's Toddler Time. I didn't realize they offered one for babies from 0-2 here in town, so we've only been going to the library in San Marcos previously. I'm glad to find we have another option. We'll probably continue going to both, just because it's fun to do things with him that are geared to him. No matter what distractions are going on, he focuses intently on the person reading the stories. The kid likes books. He has from Day One. I'm glad. I hope he is able to escape into books when he gets older. It made my life so much more enjoyable. It still does, in fact.

There was a woman sitting next to us with her 17-month-old son. He was a terror. He would run over to the woman who was reading to the children and dig through her things, pulling out whatever toy she was soon to use in her presentation. When she sang some song about five little pigs rolling in the mud, placing felt pigs on the board, the boy would run up and remove the pigs. When the woman got out the communal toys for the children to play with, the little boy grabbed a block and chucked it at another woman's head. He resisted his mom when she tried to lead him back to where she was seated. He ran around the library, exploring. He was actually really cute and I wasn't bothered by him. I also didn't feel like the mom was at fault. But I did break out in a cold sweat at what I will someday face when my little guy becomes mobile. I feel the same sort of nervousness I felt when I read about nursing when I was pregnant. Now I love nursing, so hopefully when Pax starts crawling around, I'll be thrilled and not terrified.

Paxton blew in a kazoo for the first time the other day. Chris has been teaching him. Finally, he grabbed the kazoo from Chris' mouth, put the correct end in his own mouth and made a little noise that warbled in the traditional kazoo way. It was amazing. He's seven-and-a-half months old and he's already playing a musical instrument. Move over, Bach. Step aside, Beethoven. Get outta his way, Kenny G. He's taking over.

I'm sort of embarrassed to take him out right now because his little body is covered with bites. I think they are flea bites. The cats sneak into his room and lay in his crib sometimes. And they all love to curl up in his play gym. Clearly they need to be treated with their flea drops again. Paxton has bites all over his arms and face. It's awful. When I get a flea bite, it's tiny and difficult to see. With Paxton, it's a raised welt with a big pink circle surrounding it. I'm afraid that the child welfare organization is going to raid my house and take him away from me, to a house where he will not suffer the abuse of biting pests.

Speaking of being afraid that Pax is going to be taken away from me, I had a dream last week that nearly made me cry. In it, I gave birth to Paxton, but I was a surrogate hired by another couple. He was made from their egg and sperm and I was just the carrier. I guess after he was born, I kept him and raised him as my own, perhaps in hiding from these people. And then they found me. They tried to take him away from me. When I woke up, I had to reassure myself that he was really mine. It was heartbreaking. I am so wildly attached to that beautiful boy. The thought of him ever not being in my life makes me want to sink into the ground.

I have a sinus infection, so I'm a little scattered tonight, but I've managed to stay awake for just long enough to watch Big Brother before I succumb to the cold medicine. Night, night.