I may have committed a heteronormative faux pas at the bookstore last night. They were encouraging customers to buy Little Golden Books and donate them to underprivileged kids. I went through the stack of options, reiterated my long-standing disdain for the product tie-in Golden Books (a rant for another time and place), and then selected "The Fire Engine Book" (not least because the book drive was sponsored by the L.A. County Fire Department), and announced, "Let's do this one; fire trucks make boys to read." At that point, the previously pleasant homosexual clerk who had been assisting me gave me a look of fiery death. I'm pretty was sure he was thinking, "*Gay* boys don't like firetrucks, so just so you know. Also, fuck you." My relationship with said clerk was never the same, for the remaining two minutes we were in each others' company, and I have been feeling guilty since last night that I perhaps inflamed bad memories from his childhood of being expected/forced to play with stereotypically masculine toys and books.

My Baby Is Sick

My baby is sick, and it's my fault. We took him to Babies R Us today and put him in the shopping cart seat. Naturally, he chewed on the shopping cart because he's nine months old, and because we've been smug new parents who think bacteria is good for babies--toughens up the constitution!--and because I forgot the shopping cart cover that I got from my mom that we were too cheap to buy him ourselves, and so predictably (although you will note, we did not actually predict it) he's got an awful cold or flu.

When he's just a little congested he snuffles like a baby warthog; tonight he's snuffling like a full-grown warthog with a headcold. Poor little thing. Thank heaven I invested in the NoseFrieda--I did a couple of rounds with it and I think it helped.

Anyway, I feel awful that my baby is miserable, but I loved sitting with him in the rocking chair and just holding him for a long, long time. It felt like it made him feel a little better, and I petted him in sync with his labored breathing, and he feel into a deep heavy sleep. He went down with barely a whimper, and I can only hope that a good night's sleep will heal him.