This past week, I've continually had the thought that there has never been a more appropriate nickname.
One night last week, Scott and I were looking at him as he was eating dinner and he put his finger in his ear, swirled it around and then put it in his mouth. (yuck!)
Tonight, Scott was changing his diaper and the stench was so bad he couldn't even put a sentence together. From the kitchen I heard something like this, "Bath. Needs. Old. Smell."
One of Charlie's daycare teachers once told me, "He just smells so nice." I beamed with pride, he was the cuddliest, cutest little thing. But now, I fear, he just smells.
I don't think that Charlie is going to stink his whole life, this is just a stage brought on by self-feeding -- made worse by a highly unusual amount of hair for a baby.
Every night at dinner we sigh as he runs his peach-covered fingers through his locks, creating the most amazing natural-and-organic rival to Aquanet imaginable.
He's incredibly aggressive about his food lately too. I had a container of Gerber Graduate puffs today and he snatched it out of my hands, threw his tiny fist inside, brought out a handful of peach stars and shoved them into his mouth. He looked A LOT like my dad with a bucket of popcorn.
One morning he was clean and fresh and his hair had curled so sweetly, I just couldn't bear to let him ruin it with banana goo. My solution? A hat. I put a hat on my baby while he was eating breakfast!
Yes, I'm desperate. But, he's still cute as a button. My filthy little button.
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