She belches and then claps for herself.
She most certainly did not learn that from me.
Daniel has been trying to teach Samantha to clap, so anytime she does anything remotely remarkable, he claps and yells "Yeaaaa, Sam!"
Apparently, "anything remotely remarkable" includes bodily functions. As a woman, I was blissfully unaware of that caveat. Nothing warms a mother's heart quite like seeing her 7-month old cheer for her own burp.
Sam will be 8 months in less than a week and now we get to add to her quickly growing list of accomplishments--right next to having four teeth and cruising--"Classy lady."
Maybe we should have had a boy, because convincing Daniel that a little girl who can belch like a trucker and feel pride for it is the exact opposite of "totally awesome," has proved to be wasted effort.
Oh well, if I can't beat 'em, I should just go along with it I guess...
Do you think they make those T-shirts with bikini's printed on them in a onesie? Or, how about a hat that holds two bottles? Because hey, if you're going to do tacky, go all the way!
I'm going to go look at little ruffly dresses now, and try to think of ways to keep my little sweetie, well, sweet.
2 comments:
We sat down for dinner this week and we all took turns burping. I think I won, but that's because I'm a pro. Bryan is actually the one who is irritated with burping at the table. I guess I'm just not ladylike. I'm a firm believer in the phrase "Better out than in". Hee, hee, hee...
I didn't burp and clap until I was twelve. That baby of yours? GENIUS.
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