I Am Not a Show Pony

I feel pretty lucky. Alex is a very pleasant baby thus far. As long as he's not tired (at which point the crankiness demons rear their ugly heads) he's either laughing, smiling or just observing the world around him. He even lets us occasionally torture him:


That being said, he's never been a fan of repeating his new or funny tricks. Ever since he was in the belly, he's been like that. When he was big enough to make kicks that could be felt on the outside of the belly, I would reach over and put Dennis' hand on the last place he hit. He could have done it once or twenty times, but as soon as someone else tried to feel it too, he would refuse to budge. At one point, after my friend Kristi tried unsuccessfully to feel a nudge, I exclaimed "I am not a show pony, Auntie Kristi!" and it stuck.

So now he's doing hysterical things constantly that he won't repeat if you missed them. The other day I was at my mom's and (not that he knew what he was doing) he was pulling his own finger and farting. Un-Be-Lievable. Pure boy. Obviously he wouldn't do that again, but I'll do something repetitively that makes him laugh out loud and as soon as someone comes into the room to see what's going on, he gets really sober and refuses to laugh anymore. Or he'll figure something cool out like grabbing a toy with both hands, but as soon as I try to show my poor husband, Alex just looks at him like "What? I'm just laying here... why are you staring at me?" I am not a show pony indeed!