The cats are mostly unafraid of him now. Lucky will leave the room if he cries for an extended period, and Hanna will duck into the closet or under the bed when it happens, but both have figured out he’s not some sort of strange cat-attacking animal. Yet.
So, fatherhood is a snap. I’ve already had the talks with James about drugs, cigarettes, sexually transmitted diseases, drunk driving and knocking some girl up before he’s married. And all have had a 100 percent success rate.
This afternoon, while Jenn caught up on some of her sleep, we crashed on the couch and watched man shows on television — Rescue Me and American Choppers, to be precise. If he could have just stuck his hand down the front of his diaper, he would have aced one of the important aspects of manhood: crashing on the couch in front of the TV on a Sunday afternoon.
In the meantime, the camera has been found, and here are the best of the last few days’ worth of baby pictures:
Jenn holding James for the first time in the recovery room
James sleeping in the hospital
James watching man TV in the crook of his father’s arm and it-looks-smaller-in-real-life belly
And here’s a musical bonus, if you have iTunes running on your computer: Ten rock and roll songs turned into lullabies. I’ve been playing these on the iPod, over the living room speakers, the last few days.
It was a complete surprise to see my name in the editorial reviews section on Amazon for Private Beach, Volume 2
. The blurb is from what I suspect is a long-lost CBR interview.
That said, Private Beach is pretty darn swell, so I’m happy for whatever small amount my name and blurb might help push the book.
Fourteen minutes shy of his mother having been in the hospital for 48 hours, James Allen Yarbrough was born at 17:46 today, weighing 9 pounds and 21 inches in length.
Mother and child are pooped, but otherwise well.
Peter’s song, Gothic Love Thing, is now available on iTunes!
