So I neglected to mention that Aston had his first rounds of vaccines at the doctor's office last month.
Here is a photo of him and I in the waiting room. (New mothers are allowed to look exhausted, right?)
It turns out his head circumference is in the tenth percentile for his age group.
Which makes zero sense for a kid with four chins.
(This is us outside of a J. Crew outlet a few weeks ago. Their man baby selection was a massive disappointment.)
In any case, the visit itself started out well.
He was content in his nekkidness.
If not a little bored.
I doused him with slobber. Usual stuff.
Stared at him with utter affection.
While he farted.
Then we tried to pysche him up for the hard part. Shots. No big deal, we told him.
And when you're done, you can have a lollipop.
When you're four.
Before they started he was laughing. Fist pumping. Flirting with the nurses.
We thought it was going to be okay.
It was not okay.
He cried. I cried.
There were Bugs Bunny bandages involved.
Also, I think my heart broke.
Tell me it gets easier?