He doesn't actually like Cheerios that much, incredible feat of pincer grasp notwithstanding. What kind of redblooded American baby is this? However, we did go to Indian food last night, and he had just about the best meal of his whole life. Dal soup, and raita, and the inside of a samosa, some chickpeas, some naan bread. He was bouncing up and down in his seat and so so happy. It was really cute. Almost cute enough to wish I had a video camera. Which we wouldn't have had anyway since it was a spontaneous trip. But if I HAD had one then we would have missed the whole thing fussing over the right light or trying to get him to pull my hand into his mouth to feed him faster or whatever. So ha, it's all inside the YouTube of my brain, getting cuter already.
I'm behaving like a crazy person with more than one personality. How does this happen? I'm simultaneously sure, totally sure, that I can't stand working more than the half-assed part time I put in now. Totally sick driving in to the orphanage this morning, dread, can't do it, no way, not anymore. I'll be poor, understimulated, anything. ANYTHING to avoid this Monday morning dread. And then I go into work and apply for a full-time postdoc. What?
I'm behaving like a crazy person with more than one personality. How does this happen? I'm simultaneously sure, totally sure, that I can't stand working more than the half-assed part time I put in now. Totally sick driving in to the orphanage this morning, dread, can't do it, no way, not anymore. I'll be poor, understimulated, anything. ANYTHING to avoid this Monday morning dread. And then I go into work and apply for a full-time postdoc. What?
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