Sure, sure, he looks so calm and pleasant here…
Have I mentioned that Zane sometimes gets a little stubborn? Or maybe not just a little stubborn? Coming off of being sick he’s honed and refined his skills in crazy psycho child to an almost parent crushing level. Basically when trying to have him do something that he doesn’t want (or doesn’t think he wants) he turns into a possessed pterodactyl demon child. Kind of like Linda Blair in Exorcist, but played by a carnivorous dinosaur.
Last night he gave two performances that can’t be beat. First we had a nice, long bath (video below). The problem these days is ending the bath. He doesn’t fuss much when you take him out of the tub, but the second a towel is touched to him he starts screaming/crying bloody murder. Faith comes down the hall, just to make sure it isn’t me who’s gone mad and torturing the poor baby, and then leaves when she realizes it’s just him, torturing me. Thanks. This lasts until the diaper is on, maybe until the pajamas are.
And then he’s ok.
Ah, but that wasn’t enough. This time I got out the fingernail clippers for an extended session in agony and horror.
Having older eyes I gotta get the reading glass and turn the overhead light on just to make sure I’m clipping the right thing. Still, you’d think he’d lost a pinky or a hand to hear him crying and moaning. He wiggles, pulls his hand, and does everything in his power to make it almost impossible to trim the nails. Which, of course, extends the whole happy affair even longer.
Ah, but that wasn’t enough. With fingernails finished and just as the sniffles start to recede I went for the toenails.
Faith used to cut the toenails. Faith has given up on toenails. She’s probably given up on fingernails as well. I am now your go-to guy for dressing animal wounds, draining pus from infections, removing ticks, and now: cutting Zane’s toenails.
The challenge with toenails isn’t that they are thicker or longer or strangely curled. It’s that they are on the end of Zane’s legs. The mighty, mighty Zane legs. He started working out those legs back in the womb and hasn’t stopped since. Holding a foot and trying to snip off a sliver of nail is nearly impossible. If this keeps up we might have to get a prescription tranquilizer just to trim his nails. I don’t know what’s up with him and the hysterics over getting nails cut (maybe he inherited his mother’s melodramatic flair?) but it was a long, ear-splitting, tear-laden experience that I hopefully won’t have to do for another month or two.
You’d think he’d hate me forever afterwards. Yet we had a nice, quiet night time snack (he was a little guarded) and then went into his room to read a couple of books before bed. I gave him a kiss on the forehead, told him I loved him, and set him down in his crib. He looked up, smiled, and rolled over to fall asleep without even a hint of fuss.
Here’s a movie from bath time last night. I sped the film up by 2x for the first part.