For the past several weeks Tate and I have been logging several hours piled up in my bed watching cartoons as I've been muttling through first trimester fatigue. My bed just seems way more comfy than lounging on the couch.
Anyhow, one night last week we made the long journey up the stairs and to my pregnancy den. I was ironing and Tate was watching TV. Correction, Tate was not digging anything on TV.
My first effort Cartoon Network - which for whatever reason lately seems to air fewer cartoons than most channels (ARGH!) - failed. There was some cheesy adolescent movie on.
On to Disney Channel... Hannah Montana... no thank you.
We click on down to Nick.
Nope.
I flip down several more channels.
Oh, basketball!
Not so much.
Eventually I got sick of the whining and the "no, that one," which was excellent the opposite of what he meant.
So what do I do? At the time I thought it was a stroke of genius. I relinquish control of the remote.
"Here Tate, find something you want to watch. Hit that button to change the channel."
You would have thought I handed the kid the keys to the candy store.
My little man discovered the joy of channel surfing.
For a solid 10 minutes my little munchkin changed the channel again and again and again. He didn't stop, just kept on flipping, mesmerized... I'm not sure by what, but definitely mesmerized.
Maybe it was the blur of shapes and colors or simply the power that accompanies the remote.
Being the photo-happy mama that I am I dashed for my camera and snapped a couple of pictures to capture the moment.
I think he looks a lot like his daddy here. What do you think?
1 comment:
i resemble that remark
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