As soon as my wife left for work, I get the kid changed and fed. Up till then it was all smiles and sweetness.
After the bottle he was no longer satisfied with his life. His whole life! Nothing pleased him. Carrying, the swing, the crib, the pacifier.
This kid always wants to eat. Wants to, but does not always need to.
I gave him some more breast milk and he spat it up moments later. Come on, son! This stuff is like gold! We can't waste it. Mommy is our golden goose but there are only so many eggs we get. Without this option, we are paying a fortune to the formula cartels, and we are indebted to them for life!
But I digress.
So finally I go to DEFCON 4. Not 5, but 4. DEFCON 5 would be putting him safely in his crib, screaming his head off, and to walk away.
We still had one more option before pushing the big red button. Tummy time!
Placing him on his tummy on a semi-soft, clean surface is great for him to work out his little neck and back muscles. Why, it's Dr. recommended!
He hates it. I mean really, really hates it. Hates it like Kanye West hates it when Beyonce doesn't get whatever Grammy he thinks she needs at this moment. (I do think my baby and Kanye sound similar when they are upset).
Struggle and object as he might, his little workout eventually tires him out. And then...
Now he is taken care of and I can take care of my self. Breakfast would be a good start. And some tummy time of my own. Abs don't make themselves I hear.