Monday, January 16, 2012
Have y'all met my boyfriend?
Tipping the charts in length, lacking any teeth, and weighing in at a scrappy 18 lbs 10 ozs, my Mr. January makes 9 months on the planet look to be a dashing affair. Maybe it's the whole guy behind bars thing that lends him a slightly dangerous air. Or maybe it's that framed pic hanging in a oh so not baby book approved fashion over his crib. Either way, I'm not afraid to shout it here to the internet:
I have a mad crush on my baby.
Maybe it's the additional sleep I'm getting these days, the incrementally more exercise that's helping to lift the depression that is apparently standard during the first year of my children's lives, but things seem brighter, no more so than my little nugget who - no joke - is the cutest goddam baby on the planet. I may have it scientifically validated. All I know is that when that kid smiles, which is pretty much 98% of his waking life, it is impossible not to believe good can triumph over evil, Stephen Colbert could become president of South Carolina and I could stop being so snarky for five seconds to say thank you to said baby, husband, and daughter for helping me to perk up.
Back to baby.
He's got the inchworm crawl down, his preferred targets a plastic ball and the TV speakers we for some reason refuse to pick up off the floor. I've got about a 10 second window to turn my back and google something before he eats ground up leaves and dog hair off the carpet, so the obvious solution? Less blogging, more tweeting. And that babyproofing when we get around to it. And that smile! He smiles HARD. So hard it physically weighs his head down so that he has to brace himself and turn away just to compose himself. You try staying crabby in the presence of such goobery joy. Given the go-ahead to eat pretty much anything except the scary peanut, Declan has shown himself to love the meatball. Judging by the rumbly tummy 1 hour later, meatball doesn't exactly love him back. But I assured him as with any relationships, these things take time.