I came. I sucked. I burped.

This, my loyal readers, is what we here in the big house call "a big f'ing deal." I have drunk my very first glass of milk on my own from a bottle. Not exactly a glass really, more like 9 milliliters.  But that's 9 ml of kicking butt and taking names,  thank you very much. This was my first try at drinking, so I don't have quite the drinking endurance of my parents,  but it will come. Right now I get to try drinking from a bottle about once a day. Eventually, I will reach something like 8 feedings a day of 35 milliliters each.  But as Bill Murray said in "What About Bob,  "baby steps."

On a related note, I gained 90 grams yesterday and another 40 grams today. I'm all the way up to 2035 grams = 4 pounds, 8 ounces! Around here, we call it the "Two Thousand Club."  

T-shirts for the hairy

Dad finally heard my pleas and wore a t-shirt during Roo Time. So many things about this are better than the skin-to-skin. I don't get hair in my nose, he doesn't smell as bad, and he's much less slippery. I'll still do skin-to-skin, but I like the t-shirt. A lot. So much so that I've graced Dad with my very first smile on film. I'm pretty sure I've smiled before, but I've never been photographed smiling. Big difference. Mad props to the photographer...

I don't like being in jail. Not one bit. But if I do say so myself, I'm rocking this green and grey prison jumper.

If medicine were a science

Dad's been filling my ears lately with how medicine needs more science.  Even Mom has been saying that government analysis is more rigorous and scientific than medical practice. So I've decided to take matters into my own hands and science-up my cribside.  This chart is my first data product. It shows my weight from day 0 (my birthday!) to now.  Because my caloric intake has been more or less constant (and so have my poops) I'm assuming that my growth rate is linear.  This is shown in the solid line.  The dashed lines are the +/- 1 sigma error bars. 

My conclusion?  These people need more accurate scales. 

PS. I'm growing at 16.6 grams per day.  

"If you're going through hell, keep going"

Don't worry, I'm not going through hell as the title suggests. In fact, I'm getting pampered every hour of every day by the best nurses in the world. Compared to going home with those amateurs I call parents, this place is heaven.  

Today's title is in fact a quiz.  Who said this quote first? 

Don't know?  Does this picture give you a hint?

If that was too subtle,  how about this one:

Leader of a decaying world empire,  here I come!

BTW,  the reason I got to take my picture is because the guards caught me while I was making my escape.  They removed the old-man tubes last night,  and then I pulled out the gavage tube all by myself this morning.  I was half way to the door when they caught me and snapped this pic.  Next time,  FREEDOM!

Do the Shuffle

As it turns out, two steps forward might be asking too much.  So we're going to set the Texas Two Step aside in favor of the Beverly Hills Shuffle.  In this dance, we shuffle slowly forward and hope the guards aren't watching.  

For instance, today we shuffled forward so quietly and with such good behaviour that the warden removed my old-man tubes. But in the interest of "shuffling," not "stepping," I asked him to leave the tube stickers on. That way no one gets nervous -- "Nothing to see here, Officer."  I'm not quite as cute as with no tubes and no stickers, but I'll take it. Add in the 20 grams I gained yesterday (I'm up to 1870!) and today counts as a sneakily serious shuffle forward. Tomorrow we'll try to shuffle in some more food and maybe some bottle feeding.

Point. Counterpoint.

Yesterday, the guards put the old-man tubes back in to uglify me and prevent my escape. (Yes, uglify is a word, look it up.) I have to say, I took it pretty hard. After all, in LA, you're nothing if you've been uglified. (No, uglified is not a word -- tough.)  But after sleeping on it for 23 of the last 24 hours, I've decided to put the best face on it and deal.

So imagine my joy when Mom countered the wardens with a cutification campaign. (Cutification should be a word. Let's start a petition together...) A little hat, a little pacifier, and voila! I'm back to being pretty darn cute. 

A few things you probably can't tell from the photo:  

1. I didn't gain any weight yesterday. Still at 1850 grams. Boo.
2. I had fewer drops in my heart rate yesterday, so maybe the old man tubes are working. Yay.
3. I am sucking on this pacifier like a champ. Maybe I'll learn to bottle feed soon. Super Yay.

All in all,  I'm going to have score this round:

     Guards 0,  Mom and Isaac 1

California Two Step

I was getting too cute.  The guards felt it would too be easy for me to talk my way out, so they took matters into their own hands:  they put the old man tubes back on.  Lame.

Dad's told me about the Texas Two Step - a dance so simple even he can do it. Putting these tubes back, I call it the California Two Step:  two steps towards the door,  and one step back. I'm not happy about stepping back, but Mom says it builds character and gives me more room to gather speed when I finally make my break.  Speaking of speed,  I'm up to 4 pounds, 1 ounces - my birth weight.  Keep your fingers crossed, from now on I'm in the black.

I'm boycotting cute photos until they take out the old man tubes again.  Maybe that will help break down the guards. Until then, check out yesterday's post.  Instead we can discuss my cool "Isaac" signs, since I have three. I believe if you're gonna be an escape artist, it's important to work on name recognition early.  I'm working on trademarking the "Insuppressible Isaac" in anticipation. 

Here's a photo of my new crib showing the sign my cousins made for me because they aren't old enough for jailhouse visitation rights (the others are on the side you can't see). Let's hope the cute photo boycott doesn't last long ...