Tonight is La Notte Bianca (The White Night) here in Putignano, a new event since last year, and many of the shops will be open until dawn. It's really the last hurrah for the carnival floats which normally debut every year in February. It also a nice lead-in to San Stefano, the festival of the town's patron saint, which begins next week.
Most of the time, Vito sleeps or eats pleasantly. When he's not doing those things, we play together, me imitating his sounds and trying to communicate in his special language, him smiling and moving his limbs spastically. That's basically my job these days: baby translator. Occasionally, dealings with Vito can offer much more than expected. Regurgitating of milk onto my shirt, for example, or drooling onto my arm and the floor. He makes messes and is likely to leave his mark at any time.
I took a hit from our little man today. While feeding him this afternoon, I noticed he was squirming around more than he normally does. That usually means one thing. I tried to reposition him and, really getting to the bottom of the situation, noticed a warmish sensation on my palm. Vito started crying and I passed him off to Angela (she handles the serious jobs). Then I had to disrobe. Vito's expulsion had tagged my shirt and my pants and I needed to get into something fresh.