NSJ

I needed to do some work out of Google’s Boulder office (to maximize in-person time with Mandy before her maturity maternity leave), so Jul, Niko, Sumo, and I headed out to Colorado last week. This was Niko’s fourth plane ride and the way out was a breeze. Mark and Mandy, ever gracious hosts, let the Johnston clan invade their house. Nicholas got to test drive the new nursery and support infrastructure for the soon to arrive Sladden baby girl.

They have a pretty sweet “stroller system” which I’m hoping Niko didn’t get used to. I think it actually had an espresso maker in one of the compartments. The nursery looks amazing and her bouncy chair and swing were Niko approved.

Nicholas now has enough back and hand strength to ride on my shoulders. He seems to think of my hair more as handlebars and less as “what little is left.” Fortunately his laughter more than makes up for the acceleration of premature balding.

If Nicholas had a label it would read, “baby boy, sleeping optional.” He continues to have no interest in shut-eye. We have a thousand book recommendations from parents, all of whose children “were sleeping through the night at three months.” I’m pretty sure they are just repressing that time period. I think Darwin makes us forget so we continue to have children. How else would we have survived as a species this long? On the bight side he smiles a lot, which makes sleep deprivation tolerable.

Niko (or Nic, as I call him when he is in trouble) was a total pill on the plane ride home. He wouldn’t sit still for even ten seconds. To top it off, about ten minutes from landing he decided to poop. Not any ordinary poop, but a gigantic super horrible smelly poop. We were in row five and I was worried about people as far back as row 20. I didn’t see anyway the passengers would survive the landing and taxi with the smell. So when the flight attendant took her last pass down the aisle, in an effort to save fellow passenger’s lives, I jumped up and ran to the bathroom in the front. (I imagine I looked like I was charging the cockpit, which in retrospect probably wasn’t all that smart.) I locked the bathroom right as I realized there was no changing table. Yep, that is right, no changing table. Picture an airplane bathroom. OK, now picture it with no changing table. Now imagine you are in a descent pattern into San Jose. Now recall the most horrible thing you have ever smelled. Then picture the most energetic five month old you know. Now put all that together.

You get the picture.

I ended up putting the seat down and changing him, with his sweater wrapped around his head to protect against any bumping. He seemed to think this was the most fun thing we had done all day. I remember at one point looking in the mirror, hands covered in poop, shirt covered in dog hair from carrying Sumo through security, Niko laughing, glasses fogged from the effort, and thinking, “I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.”

More photos of Boulder.