Agabang in Anyang

Dan is in Japan for the week. The most unfortunate part of that statement is its coincidence with one of Joah's hard teething weeks. He teethes slow and constant. He is not the kind of baby who accidentally gets teeth without noticing. This has proven especially true of the lower molars that have been coming in for months. He greets teething with whines and whimpers, the frequency of which are matched only by outbursts of diarrhea. I cope with sugar and caffeine. Unsurprisingly, we spur one another on to grumpiness. Yesterday was matchless misery. This morning wasn't great. But this afternoon was sweet and fun, with a walk in the park and shared banana ice cream in the reading chair. I don't know if it's him or me what changed, but at least sweet begets sweet like sour does its own kind.

Last week we were in Busan on Dan's working holiday. October has been nonstop for him. I think he's been home for maybe one weekend this month. It was nice to be a part of that part of his life. Joash and I hung out on the beach and were mobbed by school children and religious cults, neither of whom seemed ever to have seen or touched or poked or pinched a white baby before. The cult told us about Mother God, Father God's wife, and, kind as they were, I just never understand that sort of obligational evangelism, the kind done for fear of retribution, I figure. If I wasn't already a Christian, I would just have been irritated that they kept me from enjoying an afternoon on the beach with my son. Because I was already a Christian, I had no need of their proffered heresy. Oh well. They were very nice.


We took the train, and it got us wishing America had more accessible rail travel. Joash and I ripped apart a magazine for paper ball toys that we shoved in various types of seat pockets.


In the hotel and the only thing he wanted to do was crack together our afternoon snack.


We were lucky to have two beds. We put the smaller one on the floor and shoved it up against ours. It turned the room into a bounce house.


Actually, Joash loved every single thing about hotel living. There was an electric safe that he somehow set to 16 hours of security. There was a shoehorn he pulled off the cabinet and swung around. All the trays and slippers and hotel notions.


Someone was feeding chips to the seagulls. The same someone also ended up feeding chips to Joash. He was supposed to pass them along.


Joash had a classic case of not seeing the bird for the flock. If one bird was hopping along, he'd do his grunting/pointing discovery exclaiming. But the hoards of birds he couldn't care less about.


Obviously coercing a kid toward a camera is a learned skill.


A monk took a break from his evening stroll to reanimate mollusks along the beach. He did so very purposefully.


We watched the sun set on a beach and a mountain.


He sure is starting to feel heavy, but it might just be because now there's the option of having him walk, and my arms are already looking for their lazy loophole.


Running through potted flowers.


Some mid-morning faces.


Controlling the remotes. I had to keep hiding them to keep the air conditioning and the TV either on or off.


He loved the window sill so much that he leapt for it and busted his forehead a little. He's used to more accessible windows.


He thinks he should walk on the bed, so he's trying to stand up. I tried telling him how even grownups don't really walk on the bed.


Back home and wearing his little hoodie with flair. This just reminds me of middle school.


Top secret guy stuff, probably video game related.


Moms need not apply.


The only way to get him looking anymore is to offer him something he can't immediately have. All that matters is that it works.