Bub Tooth Time Machine

As a kid growing up, I was obsessed with two things. Collecting bread tags…and time travel. (Uh…forget I mentioned the first thing)…

Wide-eyed and tousled hair (yes, I did have hair once and I assure you, it was quite tousled), I disappeared into TV shows like Time Tunnel, Doctor Who, Quantum Leap, Sliders, Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, Star Trek, Planet of the Apes, Ready Steady Cook (again, forget that last one). I built my own play TARDIS in the backyard and fantasised about travelling through time and space.

Then came the movies; The Time Machine, The Philidelphia Experiment, Timecop, Time Bandits, Terminator and Terminator 2, DejaVu, Austin Powers, The Time Traveller’s Wife, Hot Tub Time Machine and of course Back to the Future, just to name a few. All fuel for the Mr.Fusion that is, the Delorean of my mind, flitting backwards and forwards in time and space trying to figure out the hows and the whys.

And I have my own theories on what’s possible and what isn’t, but don’t get me started on that, I already alluded to the existence of temporal displacement in an earlier blog(Mumma’s already dropped off at the very first mention of the words, time travel).

And there’s been a myriad of vehicles, devices and methods that people have used to get there. Elegant Santa sleigh-esque Time Machines, Deloreans, trains, boats, spinning psychedelic discs, plasma balls, phone boxes, hot tubs. You name it, they’ve tried it. But…

Who’d have thought the power to travel backwards in time, is located within…

One solitary, little…baby tooth.

For, just as things were progressing quite nicely in the “sleeping through the night” department, the emergence of that little tooth has transported us all back to 1928. Back when Indy was waking up every few hours and Mumma and I would look at each other, me in my high pants zoot suit and handlebar moustache, she in her flapper fashion bodice and feathered headdress, thinking…

“Haven’t we already done this?”

But alas, it seems we’re destined to relive the past, at least until we can find a way to get back to the future. But I’m guessing, we’ll need a lot more teeth to make that journey happen.

Until then, we’ll rely on our faithful friends, Panadol and amber neck beads, to get us through the night. Mumma can take the Panadol and I’ll try the beads, they seem to help Indy sleep, maybe they’ll work for me?

“Great Scott, Doc. This is really heavy”.

Relax folks, it's all relative

Relax folks, it’s all relative…

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Stick It To The Man

OMG! Has it been six weeks already?

My, how time does fly. Where’s a Delorean when you need one?

And just as Doc Brown from Back To The Future said, “Once this baby hits 88 miles per hour, you’re gonna see some serious shit,”. So it is for us, that our baby has hit 6 weeks (see 88m/hr), and the serious shit (see ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch), is of course…

Immunization

How can one little prick cause so much upset? (See Adolf Hitler, Obama Bin Laden, Colton from Survivor)

Or, so we thought…

Mums definitely have two distinct calming advantages when it comes to soothing away your troubles…

“They’re called boobs, Ed.” – Erin Brockovich

Boobs are an incredibly effective means of numbing any pain a man (big or little), might have. You can see it instantly, the very moment he snuggles in, latches on and suddenly…

Num…num…num…

Pain and Upset…GONE! — That’s a double-act nobody wants to see anyway, like Lara Bingle and The Shire….(though equally, just as painful).

So, our little man took it pretty well. That sudden look of, “No, you di’int…WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!” Followed by the red-faced silent breath of air that sucks into his lungs, right before the air-raid siren rips…stifled by the num-num-numbness of that “happy place”.

BTW: Don’t think for one second that Daddy didn’t miss the fact that mummy wanted him to hold Indy so that any pain he might experience would be associated with HIM and not HER at all. Daddy’s cluey about that sort of thing.

But that means I can now rest a little easier knowing our little one is protected from some of the hidden (microscopic) dangers of the world. So, at least he has a better chance of becoming a happy and healthy little boy and not end up an extra in The Walking Dead.

Be strong(I’m talking to you, Daddy)

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If You Build It, He Will Come

Never before has my life had even an inkling of baby stuff in it.

And may I point out, my replica Delorean with flashing lights and sound effects, my remote controlled Dalek, my Superman money box and my miniature Tardis that flashes just before my mobile phone goes off…

Are not baby stuff…okay!!

They are MAN things, in a MAN’s room…

(Okay, maybe the stuffed Daffy Duck plush toy is a little bit…”nyeah?”)

But they’re the representation and culmination of lifelong dreams of a MAN…(this man, in particular). And may I also point out that they are high on a shelf well out the way of fiendish little fingers (yes, my wife can’t reach them)…or little schnitzel chicken fingers, once they arrive.

But now, just like an infestation of termites, the baby stuff creeps its way in slowly but surely.

Monkeys, clothes, nappies, cabinets, wall stickers, bassinets, finger puppets…

But I am inspired by Kevin Costner’s film, Field Of Dreams, and thus I find myself listening to the voices in my head (which sounds remarkably like my wife), to build a containment “field” to rest his little head, for when “he comes”.

It’s all so exciting and real, now that we’re preparing his room. HIS room. HIIIS room. My son will have his OWN room. Who’s son? MY son. I’m having a SON. He will be MY son and he will have HIS OWN room. My SON has a ROOM of his very OWN…

The voices are telling me to “stop, now.” — Damn, she sounds hot.

Hee-hee-hee, I feel so grown up 🙂

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