After some cajoling and throwing of toys, I may have convinced Elijah to hang out in the pack-n-play for a few minutes.
Although now he's dropped the plastic dog bowl he was playing with over the side, so he may not be satisfied to stay in there for now.
But I need my cup of tea and to ramble at the blog and watch West Wing in peace for a few minutes...
Perhaps not. He's unhappy now. In spurts. "Mmmaaa."
Although for the moment, as long I don't look in his direction, he's quiet.
I'm in danger of whining too much on this blog at the moment, but, dammit, my entire household... and a few of my friends besides... are sick. What the hell?
We may have achieved success. I sat in the playpen and played with him for a while, and now he's alternately standing at the edge going "Bababa BA BA ABAAAA" at Chris and me, or sitting down playing with toys.
This may not last long, however. And all I've done in my couple of minutes is ramble about it, so, er, yeah.
Well, my brain doesn't work. My household is sick! And the baby ate my brain.
"Ama ama ama brrr aahhhh!"