Cutting a baby's nails (or "Trimming tiny moving daggers")

This is just one of the million things no one tells you about Baby Care. 

Sure, the books all say "cut their nails." And the lady at the hospital said, "Cut their nails."  But no one really tells you that cutting the nails of a 3 month old is like shooting at a bulls-eye blindfolded: you just clip clip clip and hope you get something resembling a nail and not a finger.  His little hands don't know how to stay still yet, or he's grabbing on to me while kicking me with his tiny doughy feet.  This small, somewhat trivial task, will eat up a whole morning.  No wonder I'm staying home, I have to cut my kid's nails.  And the only reason I'm cutting them is because he likes to grab my arm now and his tiny daggers almost punctured a vein.  Between his nails and the cats claws, I look like Gulliver after an attack by the Lilliputians. 

I could wait until he's ready to pass out for a nap, but my scarred arms are too busy rocking him to sleep. Maybe I'll enlist Matt's help... two gown ups holding tiny hands... could be comical.

It took me ten minutes to cut the baby's nails this morning.  I think I only succeeded at cutting 3 of them.  Only 7 more to go. That should occupy me until about 11AM.