The Puff Era

So, we've moved into a whole new phase of life with Max. He's now an emotional force with whom you must, on some level, bargain. He's not a little baby tyrant or anything. In fact he's the opposite. The majority of time (and I'm not exaggerating because other, less biased people will confirm) words you would use to describe Max are: mellow, tolerant, playfully curious, easy-going, angelic. . . ok, I threw in angelic myself). However, now, if you need to get something done, you can pretty much plop Max down where ever and ply him with puffs. Jumper for twenty minutes? Sure, Max says, where are my f'n puffs? Kitchen floor for ten minutes? Sweet Potato Puffs! Now!

I'm not entirely comfortable with the bribery aspect of all this but, I guess, you just do what you gotta do. You have to get dressed for work at some point and the activity mat with the Whoosit no longer enchants Max for hours at a time.

Puffs: it's the new baby currency.