I'm worried about Caedmon. Oh, I mean, he's growing, he's eating, he's sleeping. But alongside that, he's also learning all sorts of things that won't play well out in the real world.
He clearly believes that he's the center of the world. And my wife and I – and the dozens of visitors who show up every day to ooh and ahh over him – are doing precious little to disabuse him of that notion.
He thinks that he's badly malnourished. About eight times a day he thinks this, and lets us know quite loudly what he thinks of our obvious lack of concern for his nutritional state.
He thinks that everyone in the house needs to hear just how hard he's working at his latest bowel movement.
His idea of a schedule is to sleep all day and party all night.
He thinks it's perfectly appropriate to vomit the contents of his stomach onto whoever is holding him.
He believes that rubbing his butt around in a diaper full of yellow-mustard crap is the zenith of bliss, and that any attempt to remedy this situation is a fundamental threat to his life, liberty and happiness.
He believes that personal hygiene is an affair beneath his notice.
I get the impression we're going to be working on these bad habits of his for some time.