My son, the hacker

I spent a half hour last night trying to figure out why the internet was frozen. I asked Conor a series of technical questions and he just stared up at me with a look to say maman you talk far too much. Then he reached down to the keyboard and started bashing. Low and behold, the computer began working. I sent Michael an email suggesting our son will be a computer technician.
Hacker more like it, Michael said.

I always wonder where I went so wrong in breast-feeding Conor. Declan and Carmen were such champion nursers that they spent all their time up to 16 months staring my breasts as if they contained all of lifes answers. Conor stares them and thinks great, she's going to make me suck those again isn't she.
Our lactation specialist here in LA thinks that our problems began with the stress of moving and my pregnancy so close after Conor's birth. She observed us trying to feed and explained that its the same the 17 times I try per day. He sucks, 3 minutes after, he looks up and says oh, there's the ceiling! and immediately stops. I've started pumping and now our entire extended family have tried with the nipple bottle to get Conor to suck like a boy his age should. He starts to suck, then looks at the perpetrator and says don't think you've fooled me folks.
Sarita thinks some of it is his personality. He's so quick, so active, so alert for his age. We've decided Declan will be the diplomat, Carmen the doctor and Conor the football player.
Declan and his playmate Billy were kicking a ball around and Conor so desperately wanted to join in. His legs started kicking, his arms started waving and when he realized that he couldn't get across the grass by himself, he started crying pitiously. My poor little man.