Having a baby is so funny.
He can go two days in the same outfit. Or he can wet through four outfits in one day.
His little hands grab everything. My hair, my shirt, a blanket, a toy, a brother -- anything that his fat little fingers happen upon. I took doughnuts to Alec’s class for his birthday, and Wellington was promptly mobbed by little boys and girls, resulting in a little girl finger in each fist.
Everywhere on him is chubby. Everywhere is squishy. Even his smile is fat. He is so fun to hold. Sturdy and soft, floppy and firm, all at once. There's a reason I call him "my little fat honey."
He just learned how to spit, and now he spits when he’s happy, and he spits when he’s sad.
He has the prettiest dark blue eyes, the softest dark brown hair, and the most adorable little coo.
Man, I love having a baby. ...continue reading
