Forget the smiling, rolling over, sitting up, Dah-dah babbling. My kids are strikingly skilled at precision puking. OK, OK, spitting up. I know--it's not yet supposed to be called vomit. Whatever you call it, it is consumed--and then unconsumed in short order. The point is, they are infantile masters at placing it where I desperately don't want it.
I have developed a generally successful feeding strategy in which I sit in a chair with baby bookends--their feet at my back. I put a burp cloth under each babe and fold a blanket into a tube--wrapping it around their chins to hold up their bottles. As I mentioned recently, it's a hands free performance. All well and good until burp time.
This is boring.
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