Yesterday:
We slept a lot. In his waking hours, Max was quite subdued and pensive, avoiding my eyes. I'm afraid he's mentally composing a letter of complaint to the management. His stay has lasted nine weeks, which is a good sign, but I have no experience raising another earthling, and can only imagine the exasperation he feels over my incompetance. I know he is sometimes embarrassed to be seen with me by the way he falls asleep as soon as we leave the house. How am I to tell if he is only pretending? I imagine that while I'm walking him along in the stroller, maybe admiring the lack of a summer that Seattle seems to be having, his tightly shut little eyes slowly open to see if I'm watching. If I look down at him he quickly shuts them and blows a soft adorable snore. Today his embaressment hinges on the fact it took me till midmorning to realize my shirt was on inside out, which still failed to hide the salad dressing stain smack dab in the middle of his feeding area. It is to my advantage that he has the memory of a chicken (which, in case you didn't know, is four seconds).
He has spent the afternoon playing thumb war with an invisible friend.
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