The entry that Max is already embarrassed by: Max's nicknames

I actually rarely call Max "Max." Instead, I call him one of the following nicknames he has acquired:
-Mr. Max
-Big Mac
-Little Guy
-Little Buddy
-Mr. Snuggles
-Snuggles
-Snuggle Butt
-Mr. Fussy Pants
-Snuffle-up-a-gus (I have no idea how to spell the name of the big hairy mammoth thingy from Sesame Street)
-Maximus
-Maximilian

As much as he will hate it years from now, the name I most commonly call him is, you guessed it, Snuggles (or its variation, Mr. Snuggles, or Snuggly Pants). I also call him Maximus a lot.

Poor kid.

I don't really have anything to say

but my mother wants to me write something.

So being the smart aleck that I am, here's my entry.

The weather was nice today, a balmy 85 degrees or so. Max and I took a short stroll. He slept during the walk and then woke up the very minute we were done. I then proceeded to spend 2 hours trying to get him to sleep. He slept off and on from 12-now. He did smile at me during our wakie-wakie time, and even cooed (or so I think).

I had a Smart Ones angel hair marinara for dinner along with some seasoned broccoli. Brandon had some nasty Lean Cuisine entree.

I did not get dressed out of my pajamas.

I brushed my teeth and combed my hair.

I drank some Folgers and it sucked. Can't wait to get some Starbucks tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow, Max and I will do our grocery shopping tomorrow.

Speaking of grocery shopping, we need the following: toilet paper, baby carrots, Starbucks coffee, creamer, Slim Fast Optima shakes, bread, milk, dog food, dog biscuits, dog treats for being so good, infant formula, cheese sticks, vino, and a few other things.

Speaking of a few other things, Brandon desperately needs a shave, haircut, and new face.

Hahahahaha.

Speaking of funny, did you hear the one about the rabbi and the priest?

I's gots to go.

Was that what you wanted, Mom?

Where there's a hole there's a way

While feeding Max just about an hour ago, he began making his "I'm making a big poopy and you're gonna love cleaning it up" face and sounds. He routinely poops while he eats. I hate it because that means I have to wait until he digests (so that he doesn't spit up or projectile vomit) before I can change his diaper. I can feel the saggy poopy diaper on my legs and it's disgusting.

So, after I had waited a little bit, I went to commence the changing of the poopy diaper. I had just opened up his dirty diaper and was getting ready to start wiping when he starting spitting up a lot. So, before I could do anything with the diaper, I began to hold his head up and was about to start cleaning his face, etc., when all of a sudden.....

He peed on me for the second time today.

So, I have pee coming out, vomit out of the mouth, and poop sitting at the other end.

I just laughed.

Turtle neck

Max has been pretty good during his tummy time about lifting his head, and lately he has shown another skill: he has a turtle neck.

For the past couple of days, we have had a heck of a time burping Max because while burping him, Max tries to sit up, lift his head up, and stare at whatever is in the room. He has developed pretty good control of his head, and I don't think it will be too much longer before he can lift it completely on his own. It's actually kinda cute to see--we'll try to take a picture of it--because he sits on our lap and we're trying desperately to burp him, but he's too busy looking around like a little turtle at the world around him.

I think he is going to be a very inquisitive soul.

In other words--nosey, just like his mother.

Keep your fingers crossed

Even though the vacuum keeps Max quiet (see previous post), it is very noisy to have on all the time and also Max cries as soon as you turn it off, there are other issues (besides needing to be held all the time) that have made Max a bit fussier than normal--gas. We think Max is a bit on the gassy side.

I called the doctor today and the nurse recommended Mylicon drops. We will try them this evening and see if they help any.

I need rest. Max was awake and fussy pretty much from 7am till 12:45pm today. He is now asleep again (but who knows for how long). It is very hard for me to get anything done when I am holding a baby constantly and trying to get him to stop crying. Perhaps the Mylicon will help make him feel better and thus less fussy.

Keep your fingers crossed.

Classified Information (particularly important for new parents)

Soooooooooooooooooooo.......

Max is spoiled. This is not a secret. My parents have quickly come to this conclusion. I knew it the first day we brought Max home.

One of the ways that Max is spoiled is that he really, really likes to be held. Often, he will only go to sleep if he is being held. This makes for very, very tired arms and does not allow me to do anything else (besides hold him, of course). When you put him down, he will cry, then you pick him up, and he starts crying again.


BUT BEHOLD THE SWEET, SWEET POWERS OF THE VACUUM.

Today I discovered that Max will go to sleep--not in my arms, mind you!!!!!--if the vaccum is on. So, right now Max is in his bassinett and the vacuum is on, cleaning absolutely nothing.

And it's just one disappointment after another: Max's shortcomings

So, yesterday was Max's one month birthday. We celebrated by drinking 30 ounces of milk (throughout the day, of course, not at one sitting).

Anyhooooooooooooo, as with any milestone in a person's life, I began to reflect on what Max has accomplished so far in his life. Here are his accomplishments (if you can call them that):

-He can lift his head at least 45 degrees. More like 60-70 degrees.
-He smiles when you play with his cheeks and belly.
-He can respond to a bell (by quieting).
-He can focus on a face.

Certainly these are wonderful accomplishments for the AVERAGE one month old (I think the head lifting and bell quieting are 3 month old accomplishments), but Brandon and I had FAR greater hopes for Max than AVERAGE. At one month old, we had expected our son to.......

-Sweep the floors and earn his keep around the house.
-Perform simple mathematical equations.
-Speak 3 word sentences (preferably with at least one two-syllable word in them).
-Wipe his own butt.
-Hold his own bottle.
-Burp himself. Hell, my dogs can do that.
-Bathe himself.
-Dress himself.
-Put himself to sleep.
-Know how to say HELLO and GOODBYE in at least 3 different languages.
-Count to 10 in English, Spanish, and Latin.

Both Brandon and I agree that the aforementioned items are all VERY BASIC accomplishments. Because of his failure to accomplish any of the items on the above list, Max is going to boot camp.

Max's bad habits

Now that Max is almost a month old, his bad habits are becoming very, very manifest. Here they be (in no particular order):

1. Drooling. Sleeping or awake, Max can often be seen with a little bit of clear drool running down out of his mouth. Sadly, he inherited this habit from his mother, who routinely wakes up with a wet spot on her pillow.
2. Interrupting. Max loves to interrupt us no matter what we are doing so that we can tend to his needs. For example, it is now well after 2 pm, and I just now ate lunch. I had originally intended on eating at 1 because I thought Max would want to eat at 1:30, but nope, the kid wanted food at 1, just as my food had finished heating.
3. Pooping while eating and sitting in his own nasty poop. Very few people know this, but he got this habit from his father. Seriously.
4. Flipping people off. I hate to say it, but he got this from me. Must have seen me do it in the womb or something.
5. Emotional eating. I think he got this from both of his parents.
6. Not covering his nose when sneezing. How rude.
7. Impatience. When Max wants something, he wants it NOW!
8. Tooting. This one is also courtesy his father.

Still a fattie

I took Max to the doctor today because yesterday afternoon when I was putting him the play-yard bassinett, his head dropped out of my hands (while having a fit) onto the mattress (unsupported). He acted completely normal, etc., but I could not rest until his doctor looked at him and let me know he was ok.

And he is ok. I am still paranoid, though. I don't want him to have brain damage or anything.

Anyway, Max is now a whopping 9 pounds, 11 ounces.

Just 12 days ago he was 8 pounds, 4 ounces.

Dang, that kid is fat.

We also gave him his first tub bath last night (he had been gettin sponge baths). He actually kinda liked it, or so we think.

On how our life is different

Obviously with a new baby, our life is very different than what it was like pre-Max. I don't think I am speaking for myself when I say that both Brandon and I are very, very happy with our new life; we wouldn't change what we have now for the world (a few more hours of sleep--maybe). In fact, on our first trip to the pediatrician, I was sitting in the back seat with Max and I was just sobbing all the way to the doctor because I felt so lucky and blessed. I think Brandon thought I was an idiot.

Our life is perfect. Different, but perfect.

Clearly there are the obvious difference between our new life and our old life--less sleep, less money, less sleep, more noise, less sleep, less time, and did I mention less sleep?

While I was walking the dogs last night, though, I was thinking about the other ways our life is different. Here they be:
-I use the term "burpy" and "sucky" (that's our word for a pacifier). Who would have thought that I would add the suffix "-y" to everything?
-any time I go to the store, I feel the need to get Max something--books, clothes, etc.
-I have mastered the fine art of holding a baby in one arm and typing with the other (doing it right now)
-I have gotten used to cold coffee. Max never lets me drink my coffee when it's hot.
-I have gotten used to eating my meals while standing. Just when I am about to eat dinner, Max cries to be held.
-I feel the need to constantly clean now. I don't want Max breathing in dog hair.
-Sometimes it takes me hours to just brush my teeth. This morning when I wanted to go brush my teeth, Max started crying to be held, so I had to put the toothbrush down and go see the little squirt.
-Anyone who knows me knows that I am a very paranoid person. Now as a mother, I am a even more paranoid. That is not to say that I am one of those crazy mothers who will not let her child do anything (because I will when he is older--I want him to experience all sorts of things), but I am always making sure he is breathing, his heart is pumping, etc.

I'm sure there are more, and I know there are, but duty calls right now...

Randomness

Bit o' randomness 1: Today I commence my diet. I gained over 50 pounds while pregnant and lost 27 immediately in the first week and a half. Now I have 25 to go. Hopefully it will not be hard to lose. I do not like self-deprivation, but I really, really want to fit in my old clothes again, so a girl has to to do what a girl has to do. I still cannot do sit-ups for another 3 weeks according to my doctor, so the gut will be here a while longer.

Bit o' randomness 2: Today is the first day that Max and I are alone together all day. It's actually quite nice and easier than I expected. This morning he was awake from about 7-10:30 am. We had some play time before Brandon went to work (which was good for Brandon just in case Max doesn't have alert time when Brandon gets off work). After Brandon left, Max and I chilled. We read a book and Max wanted to be held. Very peaceful morning.

Bit o' randomness 3: Maybe I'm crazy, but it seems like Max's hair is getting a little lighter. I noticed it this morning, especially at the top of his head. It will be interesting to see what his hair color eventually is.

Bit o' randomness 4: Max is really starting to like people touching and kissing his belly. I was playing with him yesterday during his alert time, and I started kissing his belly. I swear the kid smiled.

Just me and my Max

Max and I have had a very exciting morning so far. After eating about 3 breakfasts (him--not me), we decided we were wide awake and ready to party. First, I gave Max a bath and then I changed his diaper and gave him a cute outfit to wear. We then decided to have a photo shoot since Max was alert, happy, and looking reasonably fashionable. He is hard to get good photos of because he has not been in the modeling business for very long and has not seen every episode of America's Next Top Model like I have. That will change. He refused to wear the fashionable sunglassses and kept moving around, so needless to say, I was not happy with the results--nor was Tyra.

After the shoot, we were still happy and awake, so we decided to sing and dance.

Finally, we went for a sort stroll up and down the cul-de-sac. We walked for about 10-15 minutes before he decided he was done exercising and wanted to go inside and sleep.

He is now kinda-sorta asleep, but in my arms. I obviosly am typing with one hand and this short entry has taken about 3 hours to write because I have to type with 2 fingers.

I am done.

A New Father's Pride

This probably isn't what you expect. I'm sure most, if not all, first-time fathers have a sense of pride in their babies, particularly if their first-born is a boy. Of course, I feel that sense of pride with Max, but there is another source for the pride I feel these days as a new father. It comes from my wife, Max's mother, Jennifer.

I've told her this before, but at the moment that Max was born, I felt an incredible mix of emotions from joy, to love, to pride. I was (and still am) proud of her. Through nearly 9 months of pregnancy she did everything she possibly could to be healthy and take care of herself and our growing baby boy. She ate right, took her vitamins, drank lots of water and did everything they tell you to do when you are pregnant. And after watching her work through the pain and discomfort of the delivery, seeing the relief and exhaustion on her face when Max made his entrance into the world, I could not help but feel proud as I leaned over to her and told her “You did it.” It wasn't just that she did a fantastic job pushing. There was much more to it than that. I was proud to have her as my wife, and I was proud that Max has her for his mother. You're a lucky kid, Max. And I am a lucky man to have such a wonderful woman in my life. She's the reason Max is here and healthy and happy (most of the time—his fussiness isn't because of her. I like to blame Pippi). She is a terrific mother and she deserves all the happiness in the world. And did I mention how proud I am of her?

A note on Max's name

It occurred to me that we have never really explained how we came up with Max's name. Brandon and I were pretty much agreed on the name "Max" by early January. I had really wanted to have a first name that was Latin in origin (since I am a Latin teacher after all); that wasn't too hard to do since so many names are derived from the Latin language. The problem was finding a name that sounded nice with "Delgado." That was the hard part. I don't know how I came up with "Max." I think I just thought it sounded nice and it actually sounded nice with "Delgado." Brandon agreed, and neither one of us particularly cared for the long forms Maxwell or Maximilian--just plain ole Max. By the way, Max is from the Latin word "maximus," meaning "greatest."

After we came up with his first name, the even harder part was coming up with a middle name. The names we had originally wanted to use--Joseph or Samuel--just did not sound right with Max. It was a couple of months before we came up with Fortino. We were sitting around brainstorming and I asked Brandon if there were any family names we could use. He immediately came up with his late grandfather's name, Fortino. As soon as I heard it, I loved it, especially because Fortino is a Spanish name derived from Latin and it means "luck."

Max Fortino--our greatest luck.

Papoose = confusion

I decided to get a papoose so that I can tote the kid around the house since he insists on being held all day. Well, let's just say that papooses look a heckuva lot easier than they really are.

It took 2 people to put Max in the papoose. I had no idea where his head went, how to put it on my shoulder, etc., and there were no instructions enclosed. I guess the rest of the population knows how to work a papoose.

Max didn't particularly care for it, either. We'll try again when he hits about 9 pounds.

Explosive poooooooooooop

Perhaps the most exciting thing that happened to Max (er, me) today was his first incident of EXPLOSIVE POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP.

While I was feeding Max earlier this afternoon (probably like his 8th feeding of the day), Max began to make very explosive noises--from the bottom end. And we are talking EXPLOSIVE noises. He exploded 3 times and they were so loud that Brandon was able to hear him in the bathroom (I was in the living room).

But Max apparently doesn't mind to sit in his own explosive pooooooooooooooop because he kept happily sucking away at his bottle. He sat in his explosive poooooooooooooooop for about 20 minutes and then I changed him. I opened up his diaper and nearly died. As I commenced changing him, I was fighting back the vomit. I nearly did it all before I started gagging and Brandon had to take it from there.

Needless to say, I do not like explosive poooooooooooooooooop.

Spoiled baby

I forgot to mention that this morning I let Brandon sleep in and I took care of Max. Max insisted on being held the whole time. This meant making and drinking coffee, washing my hands, making a bottle and feeding him one-handed, and...

...going to the bathroom holding a baby. I tried to put him in the bassinet while I went (even dragging the thing into the bathroom with me) and yet, Max went hysterical in the bassinet. So, I had no choice but to do my business while holding a baby.

The end.

If he keeps gaining at this rate...

then Max will be 52 pounds next year.

We had a doctor appointment this morning to check Max's weight gain. He weighed 7 pounds 12 ounces at birth, 7 pounds 10 ounces when discharged from the hospital, and at his first doctor appointment last Friday, he was down to 7 pounds 6 ounces. The doctor wanted us to come in today just to make sure his weight went up.

And boy did it.

In one week, Max has gained almost a pound. He is now 8 pounds 4 ounces. The doctor is very pleased with his health and weight gain, so we will not have to go to the doctor until August 16 (or 17--I've already forgotten). At that appointment, he will get all his shots that you would normally get at the 2 month check-up.

In other news--Max had his first huge spit-up today. It was actually right before the doctor appointment, and because we had to clean him up, change him, etc., we were a bit late to the appointment. He spat up all over his clothes and on his dear mother, too. Lots of fun to clean up.

It's gone!

Bye, bye, bye nasty umbilical cord stump!

The fussiest episode ever

I went for a short stroll at the park this evening (I have been trying to walk slowly for about 20 minutes a day every evening) and when I came back, Brandon was trying to console Max. I took the kid and he calmed down for a bit when I rubbed his belly (I thought he had gas). After he appeared to be calm, I sat in the glider with him and began to read another story.

Wrong move, Jen.

Max began to cry and scream--and there were actual tears this time. So, I pulled out all the tricks I knew--walking, singing, talking, bouncing, etc., and still Max would not stop sobbing. I tried rubbing his belly again. Didn't work. I noticed he had a wet diaper (which was weird because Brandon had just changed it right before I got back from the walk). Even with a clean diaper, Max still screamed. I must have tried to calm him down for at least 15 minutes before I pawned him off on Brandon. Then Brandon tried and tried to no avail.

As a last resort, I made Max a bottle. Didn't want to and shouldn't have needed to because he had just eaten an hour and a half earlier.

And yet that's all he needed.

More freaking food.

Addendum Part Deux: Mr. Fussy Pants' Weakness

So, Mr. Fussy Pants has a weakness after all. Jennifer has discovered the one thing that calms the Fussmeister within seconds. Two words: "Happy Birthday." Start singing that song, and the evil Mr. Fussy Pants cowers back into the corner from whence he came.

On an unrelated note: Max has zits. Lots of them. He has acne on his cheeks and the occasional pimple on his stomach or back. What a pizza face...

Addendum: "The Jolly Barnyard"

Mom just read "The Jolly Barnyard" to me. Just to shut her up, I gave it 5 of 5 toots.

Man, the woman was going on and on about this stupid literary term called "in media res" and "rhyme." She even made Dad partake in the discussion. Poor dad--Mom kept calling on him and he didn't know any of the answers.

A typical day in the life of Max Delgado

1:00 AM: Good morning! My day typically begins somewhere around 1 or 2 am. It is at this point that I scream bloody murder for a diaper change and/or a midnight snack. I like to pee and eat. When I pee, I usually get it all over the place--my diaper, my clothes, my blanket, and sometimes if I am feeling very generous, even on the bassinet. I hate it when Mom changes my diaper. She just does it so slow! First, she puts some crap on my nasty umbilical cord (dad never does this, and I love him for it), and then she takes forever cleaning me. Mom is ridiculous because sometimes she puts the diaper on backwards and that ticks me off because then she has to fix it. By this time, I am really, really upset and very hungry. After this 45 minute diaper change, I am ready to eat. It takes me a long, long time to eat (30 minutes) because I am just a baby. Duh. While I am eating, Mom and Dad struggle to keep their eyes open. Usually it is Dad who feeds me at night and Mom (she's so ridiculous) either kisses me and rubs my head and legs. After I have eaten, I then enter a milk-induced coma.

4:00: OMG! OMG! I am soooooooooooooooooooo hungry! OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Somebody please feed me. I am fed and enter another milk-induced slumber.

5:00: Red alert! Red alert! I don't want to sleep! I want to be held! Somebody please hold me! Please, for the love of God! No, Dad! I don't want the freakin' pacifier! Just pick me up, you putz!

6:00: Wake up, you idiots! I just peed all over the place! Mom, you stay in bed because I would rather Dad change me this time! If I poo, Mom really grosses me out because she examines the poo. She takes the diaper and stares at it because of something like making sure the poo looks healthy. Just what does healthy poo look like, Mom?

7:00: Uh....hello....I am hungry again. Pancakes, please.

7:30: I don't want to sleep, you stupid parents. Let's stay awake. You don't want to sleep, do you?

8:30: I'm tired. Guess I'll sleep for a bit.

From around 8:30 or 9 in the morning or so, I usually sleep until around 2 or 3 pm, waking every 3 hours for a pee/poo and a feeding.

2:00 pm: This is my favorite time of the day. I am awake from 2-4 usually. Around this time, Mom reads to me. Yesterday we read "A day in the jungle." It was pretty lame, if you ask me. Now, nothing against Mom or anything, but Mom is pretty lame, too. I mean, I'm just a baby, and yet she tries to have "literary discussions" with me and she tries to teach me literary terms. I think I have learned about foreshadowing, character development, and plot development so far. After we read the book, Mom asks me to rate it on a scale of 1-10 and we then discuss it. Well, she discusses it and I just sit and roll my eyes at her.

3:00 pm: Dr. Phil! He is soooooooooooooooooo cool.

4:00 pm: Sometimes I stay awake for a bit of Oprah, but I am really not that interested in her.

For the rest of the night, I am fed and changed every time I alert my stupid parents. The big hairy creatures (Shelley, Pippi, and Lucy) really bug me--they are always sniffing me and trying to kiss me. How annoying.

11:00 pm: My day ends. I have been very busy and now I am tired. Life is rough.

And the fatigue is catching up with us, but we're still cool....

Last night was the fist night in a week that I was so completely out of it that I didn't even wake up for 2 feedings and a diaper change. I remember laying on the couch, and I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I know, I look up at the clock, and see that it is after midnight. "OMG! We need to feed Max!" I told Brandon. He assured me that he had already done so half an hour ago and was surprised that I hadn't heard the siren alerting us that it was feeding time. The same scenario happened a couple hours later for a feeding and diaper change.

I'm surprised because I am normally a very light sleeper--and Max is very vocal in letting us know he is hungry--but I guess the fact that my body is still exhausted and has been all week has finally caught up with me.

It's catching up with Brandon, too. When Max woke up for his 8:30 feeding this morning--which I actually heard--I took the little squirt and fed him, and poor Brandon has been in bed ever since (it's now 10:30). It's hard for me to nap during the day (it messes up my sleep cycle), but for some reason Brandon is able to do it. Hopefully he will get enough rest.
But he better wake up in a couple of hours because I am getting my hair done (the first time in 8 months!).

I cannot wait for the time when Max is able to sleep longer than 3 hours at a time without being fed and when Max can finish off a bottle in 10-15 minutes (or less) rather than his half hour feeding. That will really help with the sleep. It would be nice if he could have this resolved by the time I go to school in August.

I know it sounds very cheesey, but Brandon and I were both talking about how tired we were, and yet how not tired we were. I think both of us are very grateful to have the other one. I know I would not be able to do this on my own, and that is why I am so glad that Brandon has these 2 weeks off. We knew it would be hard to care for a newborn, but we have actually found it easier than we thought it would be simply because we have made a pretty good team.

We both have our strengths--Brandon is able to wake up (and I apparently can't, which I still find surprising) and he is very fast with the diaper changes. He's basically faster at everything (e.g., preparing a bottle, burping), primarily because I am so paranoid about doing things perfectly that I am very slow about doing things. Brandon is also very loving and gentle with Mr. Fussy Pants, even when he is at his fussiest.

My biggest strength is that I am much faster at quieting and soothing Mr. Fussy Pants (except during a diaper change--Fussy Pants acts like a diaper change is the end of the world). Probably my other strength is that it is easier for me to be silly for the little squirt and humor him--I think Brandon just finds being silly a little awkward for him right now. He'll get used to it, though.

Fortunately we complement each other, and so perhaps that is why so far taking care of Max hasn't really been that tiring and difficult (although our bodies our telling us otherwise!).

Max's alter ego: Mr. Fussy Pants

Now that Max is officially one week old, his alter ego has finally emerged and made his presence VERY known: Mr. Fussy Pants.

Exhibit A: Last night Brandon and I decided to be time efficient and prepare bottles ahead of time for Max's night feedings (prior to last night we were making the bottles when they were needed). Preparing the bottles ahead of time, mind you, is perfectly acceptable and very common. The only thing is that you have to stick the bottles in the fridge and then serve them immediately after being taken out; you cannot heat them because uneven heating often results. So, when Max woke up for his 1:30 feeding, Brandon went to the fridge, grabbed one of the 3 bottles he had made ahead of time, and brought it to me so I could feed the little monster (er, Max). Max was very happy to have his bottle (he always is), but as soon as he took his first suck, he spat it out and cried. I tried again. He spat it out and cried. I must have tried a couple more times with the same result. Thinking I was doing something wrong, I gave the monster (er, Max) and his bottle to Brandon so that he could try. Same result. But Max was obviously still hungry--he kept opening his mouth and grabbing his hands and sucking on them.

It was then that we had an epiphany--Max does not like a cold bottle. Brandon went and made a new bottle with the warm water, gave it to me, and Max happily sucked away.

The little squirt got his way--no more pre-made cold bottles.

Exhibit B: Max often refuses to fall asleep unless he is in the arms of his mama. If we put him in his bassinette (I have no idea how to spell that word), he will cry until he is picked up and held. We hold the monster (er, Max) constantly (and I mean constantly--Brandon and I passively aggressively fight to hold the kid), and I think our constant holding has made him spoiled.

Exhibit C: Max must be swaddled. Perhaps because he was crammed into my uterus for 9 months (which was probably pretty tight quarters), Max really loves to be put in a tight swaddle. The night he was born, he was taken to the nursery while I was put in recovery, and the nurses told me the next morning that he was hysterical unless he was swaddled. Sure 'nuf, he does go ballistic unless he is swaddled.

Thank you, your honor, I rest my case.