Zane in the jogger just before our walk yesterday.
Thursdays are Zane and Faith’s “Fourth Trimester” meetings (think about the name a bit) where, if they are running on time, they spend an hour with a bunch of newly minted babies and mommies. Afterwards they all head to the nearby pub/restaurant to wolf down lunch. The babies get into the action and the place turns into a mass-breast/bottle feeding frenzy.
Or so I’m guessing.
Us dads don’t have an organized get together. Zane and I go shopping quite a bit and so far the only place I’ve seen dads with babies is the grocery store. None at home depot. W*lmart is chock full of moms-n-babies (sometimes with a shell-shocked dad in tow). Many of the w*lmart babies are newborns: as if the parent’s just realized that, hey, we NEED things for this baby now!
At the grocery store the other day I ran into two dads with babies. The first one looked close to my age and had a three week old (neckus unformedus) mostly lost in blankets lining the car seat. The other baby, a cute little girl, was six months old. Her dad, a young guy with stubble for hair, claimed that his daughter has been sleeping 8-9 hours at night since a few days after she was born. He called the doctor the first night she slept ten hours and his medical advice was, “don’t tell other parents with newborns!”
I’m starting to wonder if it’s the hair and if maybe I should get a buzz cut. The one other dad I’ve met who had a sleep-all-night baby also had a super short haircut. There might be something to that.