We've created a monster. A high five monster.
Jared and I were like: Hey! How cute! Let's teach our baby to high five people! How great that will be! C'mon, a high fiving baby!? Genius.
Except no, it was not a genius move. Because although this child has the motor development to high five people, he does not yet have the appropriate mental development to understand when and where high fiving is appropriate. Thus, he is frequently doing things like...
A high five in the face. A nice and firm one.
A high five to the messy diaper. Right in the poop.
A high five to your drinking glass. While you are drinking.
A high five to my boob. With a clawing pinch to finish it off.
A high five to the high chair. For some reason it doesn't react.
And just in case you can't picture it, baby high fives look a lot like baby hitting. In fact, I might venture to say that there is no difference.
So each day of breastfeeding begins to look more and more like a match with Mike Tyson. My boob is Evander Holyfield. During diaper changes, an apron and goggles must be worn to protect from possible poop splatter. You must drink only if you are thirsty enough that you don't mind wearing some on your shirt.
The only experience that remains unchanged is sitting in the high chair. Because the high chair doesn't much seem to mind being high fived in the face. It's one tough S.O.B.