I was given the most loveliest gift ever: the crack!star.

The crack!star is a magical toy that plays music, flashes bright colors and, apparently, sends super-stealth mind waves straight to the brain of my baby boy that say: GIGGLE, DAMNIT.

The crack!star looks like a happy face that's been rolling back prices in the Halloween aisle of Walmart, but don't let its clownish appearance fool you. This is a sophisticated, incredibly intelligent device that was finely crafted by the greatest minds of our time.

When placed beneath the crack!star, Cael cannot look away. Literally. It's actually sort of frightening the pull this thing has over him. If he's screaming and the star comes into view, 90% of the time he will instantly stop crying and start laughing. Tongue sticking out, eyes bright, hands waving, full out hysterical laughter. I've tried lying underneath the crack!star, and I've gotta say, I don't see what's so appealing about it. I have no trouble playing with the other toys that hang from the play mat - in particular I'm fond of the sun with beads - but Cael couldn't tear his eyes away from the star if his young life depended on it. Even when the novelty has worn off or the diaper sogginess has reached critical levels and the giggles have turned to sobs - he still won't look away. His little head will be turning from side to side in distress, but his eyes are GLUED to the lights. It's amazing.

Even if it's not sending the subliminal messages I'm convinced it is, I worry that setting him down and subjecting him to the crack!star is like plopping a ten year old in front of the tv. I feel like I just might be corroding his mind and turning him into a prematurely addicted child of the video game generation, where nothing but rapidly flashing graphics will hold his interest and there will be no way of tearing him from them without actually severing a limb.

...But then I remember that it was made by Baby Einstein, that the music is classical, and that it's really nice to be able to take a shower without having to jump out with shampoo in my hair because Cael finally realized he wasn't being held.

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Cael spends a good portion of his "happy time" licking and sucking his knuckles. Will this develop into thumb sucking once the digit in question becomes more opposable? Or am I doomed to have one of those boys that walks around asking, "Want to see me stick my whole fist in my mouth?"

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Living life in two hour chunks has got to go... especially when the in-laws live an hour an forty-five minute drive away.

I have now nursed in three different cars, in a variety of parking lots (mostly fast food, but I also do gas stations and abandoned strip malls), on bleachers, on a picnic table and in six different towns off the I-5 corridor.

As an eatery, I am more ubiquitous than McDonalds.

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Cael is two months old!

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Cael is in his very fussy phase (please be a phase, please be a phase...), which leads to a lot of immobility on my part.

When I finally manage to calm his hysterics, the last thing I want to do is move him. I handle him much like I would a live bomb - I use extreme caution so that I don't jostle him and trigger an explosion of life-threatening proportions. (Seriously. You should hear this kid wail.) So, no matter what awkward position I end up in, if his eyes close I immediately freeze.

As I sit here, pinned to the couch and typing one handed, it occurs to me that I could use a little help from Clio in times like these. She's just lying there, curled up and cozy on the end of the couch and not pulling her weight. I mean, I put food in her dish every morning and I sneak her tiny pieces of meat from dinner - would it kill her to nuke me a hot pocket? Or at least hand me the Tivo remote that is woefully out of my reach?

Lately I've been thinking I should train her not to bark at small children and large dogs, but I think I should skip that and go straight to an instructional on how to make a margarita.

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