Little Sleevie Wonder

When Jake was a little bitty baby, he would take his hand and rub it back and forth across my collarbone like a windshield wiper.  My mom said it was weird.  She’s always rubbing her nose.  Pot and Kettle?

Then I had to be very careful because whenever I was holding Jake, all of a sudden his arm would be down my shirt… up to his elbow.  I had to wear higher collared shirts to try and maintain my modesty.  (This still happens so be warned.)

As I’ve mentioned before, when he’s tired, his little pointer fingers now find their way under the cuffs of his sleeves or the collar of his shirt.  Sometimes if he can’t reach for various reasons, he’ll settle for rubbing his belly at the bottom of his shirt.  My sleeves and collar seem to be equally satisfying.

Today Jake was a super grump, super grump, he’s super grumpy, Yow.  (This happens to be a song I sing to the tune of Rick James’ Super Freak.  My favorite line is, “the kind you don’t bring home to mother.”)  Anyway, he was so tired, he had been rubbing under his collar and stretched it completely out, practically to his belly button.  That was our cue for an early bedtime.  Goodnight little Sleevie Wonder.