A Raspberry Named Rackley

No, I'm not crazy.

And no, I haven't spawned fruit.

Aidan was extremely wound up tonight. I have to believe his mother when she says she didn't have any caffeine today, but it still took him a while to shut off.

We bathed him (not unusual...it usually helps to calm him). We massaged him with baby lotion. We listened to him monologue about his latest endeavors at sampling adult food. We tried exhausting him with tickles and yum-yums. We Marissa nursed him. We even spoke in tongues—softly (this calmed him for a bit but only while we spoke). Nothing! Not a thing worked!

So we just let him crawl around on our bed while we reclined on our pillows and brainstormed other possible solutions. Apparently that's all we had to do because he found that Mommy's tummy made a great place to practice blowing bubbles. Only the bubbles didn't come. What did come were noises reminiscent of my sixth blog entry.

You guessed it (or you looked it up): Aidan has discovered the joy of flirberts (better known to some as raspberries). He giggled and laughed and blew some more. A few minutes later, he was out like a batter with three strikes. Or an American Gladiators contender with an injured knee. Or—well, you get it. Sweet slumber at last!

Goodnight, dear readers! May you dream tonight of bumpy maroonish fruit and little boy giggles.