I tried to make him sit up, but he kept sliding over.
(cutest koala outfit from Emme and Elissa Swick)
Thanks to Griffin for the adorable swing!
He's such a little shit-stirrer. When we're at home, we're just hanging out. He snacks a little, naps. But it never fails: as soon as we get to a public place like, say, in line at the bank, he squawks the equivalent of , "Hey ma, I'm starving over here!" And I have to whip out my boob and feed him. I'm standing in line, talking to the teller, walking through the parking lot- all with my boob hanging out of my shirt. He seems determined to make a statement. Maybe he takes a little bit after me?
Dude. I'm a mom. It finally hit me as I was taking a turn around the pit at a show tonight. I'm a mom. Do moms push and shove and sing loud songs at the top of their lungs? I guess this mom does. I never thought I'd be here.
At the wise old age of one month, Danger's got a favorite band: the Misfits. No joke! I first discovered this when I put him in the car one night and he had a fit. "Put some music on and crank it up," my mom suggested, "that way at least you won't hear him shriek."
So I put in Static Age and turned up the volume as suggested. "Static, static, static!" I hear a little sigh. I look over my shoulder and see Luca totally blissed out. Since then I've experimented with other bands but nope, I'm pretty sure I've got a mini-fiend on my hands.
He's a month old this week. I can't even believe it. He went from looking like a tiny, beaky little turtle to looking like a... well, to looking like a round, chubby baby. He has developed some key life skills. He can now make eye contact, grab my boobs, and squirm and wiggle his way over to my feeding tanks from about a foot away. Clearly, he's a genius.
He's also a talker. He squawks and grunts and hollers away; this morning my mom likened him to a punk singer-- he makes a lot of Loud Noise and wants to Be Heard, but you aren't quite sure what he's saying. Luca Danger is born!
I love L.A. I love earthquakes and riots and traffic jams and 80 degree Christmases and, right now, I'm loving the fires. It's hot and dry, the sky is brown and pink and gold and it's snowing ashes. Vive l'apocalypse.