It ain't gonna happen dad....

One of the biggest things I'm learning about babies is that every thing is about transitions. The journey from the family jewels to the cushioned jewelry box is the first major transition. The whole growth process of the baby in the womb is broken down into stages or trimesters, if you will. Every trimester is a transition in growth and ability of the baby until he is ready for the ultimate transition of birth. The eviction from the penthouse to this cold, cold  world. Unlike an animal in the wild, who has to make that transition fast or be eaten alive by a lazy lion who likes an easy spoil, or a freshman on a college campus, parents have to manage these transitions. 

 We figure out that if he falls asleep in your, arms we have to slowly transition him to the bed or you are in for another " I'm sleepy but don't want to sleep" fight. The transition to being strapped in the car seat is another doozy until the rev of the engine puts him to sleep. From warm bath to cold air, our bed to his crib, sleeping to not sleeping,....the list is long and will get longer. Our newest transition is one no man wants to give up. It may be worst than being evicted from the womb, boob to bottle. Mom has to go to work soon and dad will be left to do the feeding. My first attempt was like a scene from Color Purple. He threw that bottle back like he was Suge Avery. It was like trying to force feed a lion a spear of broccoli. He wanted flesh, and armed with only a plastic nipple, I was defenseless. He had this look in his eyes like, whatever you are trying to do dad, it ain't gonna happen. Give me boob or Give me death. Let's hope this transition gets better.