Cole Joseph is one month old today. Again, it’s one of those timing things that seems both entirely true but simultaneously impossible.
“This boy is going to eat us out of house and home!” Lynnette said. That was two weeks ago. It seemed like a funny yet appropriate thing to say about Cole. He was growing at a rapid rate, so fast, in fact, that people would ask us if Avery was growing at all. Was Cole hoarding all of the formula and boob juice for himself? Well, no, but I’m pretty sure he wanted to. Wants to. I’m pretty sure he wants to. He’s behaving exactly like a male Higa would – he eats, nearly passes out at the tail end of his feeding, then sleeps deeply once he’s allowed himself to let go of the dream of more food. Right now, my brother Matty is reading this (kind of) and nodding. My dad was reading this but probably fell asleep halfway through this paragraph because of a large dinner. Paul is shaking his head because he’s been trying to so hard to deny his ultimate Higa destiny, but don’t think I don’t see that little pouch cruising above your waistline, brother.
I am a man-child and consequently, I do things that many adults frown upon. One of them is simulating a gagging noise if I am presented with an option or information that I find displeasing. It’s basically using an exaggerated dry heave/retch instead of saying “No, thank you.” For example:
Lynnette: Do you want to take me to the Kate Spade store today?
Lynnette: There’s an additional 20% off everything that’s already 50% off the whole store.
Lynnette: K, we gotta go now, though, my friend said she waited in line for 2 hours and she’s still not in.
I bring this up because Cole’s farts are incredible. They’re just ineffable nasty forces of nature. Some of them are so vile, they make me retch for real, but then I laugh because I realize I made the noise involuntarily (and that’s absolutely hilarious to me), but once I stop laughing, I retch again because I have to inhale. Insanity.