22 to D-Day
T-22 to D-Day
The ultrasound went just fine yesterday. Alas, the pictures are still riding around in Jen’s purse, so I don’t have any to upload here.
Instead, I’d like to add yet another factoid to the ever-growing list of parenting things that I had no idea about. Apparently babies are supposed to nurse/breastfeed for a year. A year! I expected her to be on black truffle chicken nuggets (in dino shapes), pureed strawberries Arnaud, and sippy cups of Fre by then.
Apparently they don’t start on solid, normal foods until 10 months or so, and even then you’re supposed to provide a formula/breast milk digestif.
That’s seems like a serious amount of mileage to put on a pair of boobs. I mean, doesn’t the kid have teeth by then? That sounds…hazardous.
Gonna lose that hand, a la Herschel
In an entirely unrelated vein, I’m also not sure when you’re supposed to bring the kid out of the house. Not for stroller walks around the neighborhood; I figure we can do those whenever we’re physically able. (I.e. not sleep deprived.)
No, I’m talking about heading out among the unwashed masses for things like Baby’s First Mall Trip, Baby’s First Alligator Encounter, or Baby’s First Warhammer Tournament.
The number I keep seeing is 40 days but that seems, I don’t know, a little biblical to me? (I’m not pushing her stroller up Mt. Sinai or Baby Bjorning her across a desert or anything…) I do wonder when their little immune systems are prepared for the bacterial onslaught of something like The Dirt Mall, though.
Guess that one will require a bit more research.