It’s official. Canon has an official diagnosis as of 3 and a half weeks of life: FOMO. Fear Of Missing Out. As any new parent would attest, this primarily makes itself known at or around 1.30 in the morning, much to my chagrin. Why just have a little bit of golden juice and fall right back asleep when I can chatter away, eyes wide open for the next 3 hours? This is too much fun!
But hear me when I say that I truly say this without a complaint in my heart. For really, this only means the greatest of things for his supposed affliction: he thinks I am the best thing since sliced bread. I am the greatest of the college Friday night social scene, I am the teenager who’s throwing the party of the year because the parents are out of town for the weekend. He wants to hang out with me and doesn’t want to miss out on a thing I’m doing! Hello, my name is Bee’s Knees – it’s nice to meet you.
And so we go. I stare into his eyes some more and I bounce him and we do 39 laps around the living room, dining room, kitchen, bedroom and baby room – in that order. And he begins to fall asleep, and gets what I like to call his little Exorcist eyes [when the lids are closed and the eyeballs begin to roll back into the depths of his head], but he then realizes – FOMO! – I’m going to miss out on another lap. FOMO! I’m awake, I’m awake! FOMO! Why go to bed at 2.16 am when I can stretch it another two hours? FOMO! I’m having the time of my little lifeeeeeeee…
So instead I chuckle at the absurdity of parenthood, whilst crossing my fingers that tonite’s feed will end a little bit earlier. But really, who can resist this face?
Or this one too…0