Geez, you and your sister are a lot of work. Like, for real. Which is why your three-month letter is only a month and a half late.
And why I still haven’t sent out thank you notes.
So! You’re like four and a half months. And you’re huge. You’re 15 lbs, almost 26 inches, and absolutely adorable. Your grandma changed your diaper yesterday and she almost started to cry because “oh! The chicken legs are gone!” Yes, they definitely are.
Helping with that is the fact that you’re eating solid foods now! I’ve only tried rice cereal because, again, oh so much work and holy cow the thought of opening ANOTHER container is just too much to contemplate some days (set the bar low- my philosophy for parenting). You love it! Just like mommy. In fact, it’s a good thing we mix it with formula or I’d eat it for you.
I almost can’t list all the things you’ve started to do in the last two months. You roll over, both ways. you can’t really put them together yet, so sometimes you get stuck on your tummy on the floor and get super mad. You do baby situps constantly, and are SUPER close to sitting on your own.
You love playing with toys, and your keys and the lion rattle from Grandma Gigi are current favorites. The bigger you get, the faster you get bored with being in one place. Sometimes I feel like our days are just a revolving cycle between bottle, swing, playmat, bumbo, cuddle, bottle, swing, etc. Kind of like Curves, but with way more wine and less calorie burning.
Your biggest accomplishment, at least according to Mommy and Daddy and probably Grandma Susan who received way fewer tearful phone calls and overnight stays is sleeping through the night. Like, actually sleeping through the night. Not the fake 12-5 through the night (Seriously, bump.com. Who thinks 12-5 is actually a realistic night for someone?)
We put you to bed around 8 after your sister does her “routine”, and you sleep until 6 or 6:30 on most days. Some days you’re up early, but you always fall back asleep after we move you to your swing. I can’t get over how easy of a baby you are.
You’re eating better- I think the baby zantac helps you and knowing what’s wrong helps me to not get frustrated. You’ve got a cold right now, and so you only like to sleep on your tummy. Which terrifies me, even though your doctors said it was okay because of your little problems, so I have to check on you about 80 times a night. Give or take. It’s okay, though, you’re worth it. And you breath so loudly it’s not like I have to actually go in the room- I just have to crack the door and you and your little adenoids assure me that you are, in fact, still breathing.
You giggle and laugh and coo and smile and squeal (especially for Daddy) and I just can’t believe how much fun you are. Right after you were born, when I was having a really hard time, your Grandpa Joe (who is the best guy in the world- along with your daddy- and I hope you grow up to be just like him) said I was going to enjoy you more than I ever thought possible.
He was right. I enjoy every single second I have with you, my little guy.