Mr. Grabby McGrabbersons

I have noticed lately that our little Dex has been getting the short end of the stick in terms of blog attention.  I'm pretty sure Fionn had full pages of narrative devoted to his every movement at this age, and Dex...well, he's lucky if he's in the background of one of the pictures we take of Fionn.  Therefore, I decided to devote an entire blog post to our littlest buddy, Deaglan Stetson. 

Deaglan is 9.5 months now and quite the little mess, as you can see in the above picture.  He is, quite surely, the messiest eater in the history of the world.   It is really a testament to my love for him that I continue to strap him into his high chair three times a day.  Because the outcome is always the same.  Yogurt on the wall.  Oatmeal in the cracks of the floor.  Cheerios EVERYWHERE.  Oh, and couscous.  As much as I love it, that product should be banned from all households with small children.  It is just about the most annoying thing in the world to pick up from a (very crappy) wood floor.

Ah, but isn't he sweet?  Dex has continued to be the most precious little bundle of fat thighs and soft skin.  I feel so lucky to have this time with him.  He is definitely quite the Mama's boy and is already acting all clingy when someone else tries to hold him.  I'm pretty sure Fionn NEVER had separation anxiety which, to be honest, made me feel kinda crappy at the time.  But now I'm realizing that it was a total gift.  The harder it is to detach from Dex...well, the less I get to move freely about the cabin.  We'll have to work on that, kiddo.

Okay, so Dex is still not crawling.  This has been so interesting for me because Fionn was already up and walking by this age.  But, Lord, I am so grateful for this immobility.  It has made life so much easier for me.  I can leave Dex in one place, quickly run to another room, and rest pretty well assured that he will be basically where I left him when I get back.  That said, he is started to crawl backwards a bit, so I think my days are numbered.  He is also pulling up now which thrills him to no end.  He's such a strong little guy, and I feel sure that once he gets his gumption, walking will come pretty easily to him.

The thing about Dex is this.  He is cautious.  Now, if you are the mother of a similarly rascally young lad like Fionny, you might not know the meaning of this word.  That's okay.  I'll define it for you.  

cau·tious

(of a person) careful to avoid potential problems or dangers.

It makes me snicker just typing it.  Fionn is literally the OPPOSITE of this word in every move that he makes.  He is fearless as the day is long.  Reckless even.  Scares the pants off of me sometimes.  But Dex...he is so different.  I see him spy a toy across the room.  He will start to crawl toward it, getting onto all fours, stretching his chubby little arms toward it.  But if he feels his center of gravity start to waver at all...done.  It's not worth it.  He simply crawls back to his original position.  No biggie.  I am so curious so see if this trait of Dex continues.  There is a huge part of me (the cowardly part) that would love to have one little boy who was a little more reserved in terms of...well, potential problems or dangers.  

I will say that Dex is still a very curious little bugger.  As Fionn now says all the time because he has heard ME say it all the time, "Dex is sooooo grabby!"  And, oh he is, people.  It is really quite annoying at times.  Let me paint a quick picture for you.

A couple of weeks ago, Conor was out of town all week on a business trip.  I only say this to set the scene that I was already feeling a little frazzled by week's end.  It was Thursday, and we decided to go to Hair Cuttery to get a haircut for Fionn.  The haircut was terrible, but that's a story for another day.  Anyway, as the hair stylist is finishing up, she asked me to look at the front of Fionn's hair to see if it looked okay (it didn't).  As I walk in front of the chair, there is a weird splash and then a crash.   "What the..." I mumble, ready to blame it on the terrible hair stylist (it was truly an awful haircut).  There was my Dex, holding the top of a now-spilled container of cleaning solution that had been sitting in front of the mirror.  Little rascal had reached over from his place on my chest (he was in the Ergo) and just tipped over the entire container.  Psychedelic blue cleaning solution was EVERYWHERE.  Crap.  Now I had to give that hair stylist a better tip.

After the haircut experience, I felt we all needed a special dinner at Busboys and Poets.  So we headed over.  I ordered a beer before the waiter could even introduce himself and headed to the bathroom with both kids.  When we returned, my beer was waiting on the table in all of its IPA glory.  Frosty glass, hoppy beer.  Aaaah.  Makes everything better.  And then...

CRASH!

You guessed it.  Grabby McGrabbersons struck again.  Beer everywhere.  All over the table.  All over Dex.  All over the floor.  And, saddest of all, NOT in my belly.  I swear I stood there with my mouth gaping for a full minute before I started to wipe the alcohol off my baby.  "Noooooooo," I moaned so loudly that people turned from tables away.  

You'll be happy to know that they replaced my beer at no charge.  I think the waiter could see the desperation in my eyes.  Now if only I'd packed a clean outfit for Dex.  But...nope.  So he spent the rest of the dinner sitting in just a diaper in his high chair.  Thankfully, the restaurant was nice and toasty due to frigid temps outside.  After our meal (which was surprisingly quite nice), I had to wrap my winter coat around him to get him back to the car.  

Ah, parenting.  Well, that's it for now.  I will leave you with this picture of Dex with a Cheerio stuck to his nose.  Because...well, it's darn cute.