Child Labor

Mom went back to work on Friday. Today is her first full week back. Dad is going to be around to help with me a lot, but there are times when Mom has to take care of me and her job, too. I thought I was her job. I'm doing everything I can to make sure Mom remembers me, and am therefore sure to need attention often. She found a way to foil my plans, though. She puts me in this stretchy cozy hugging device that has the power to knock me out. Darn, she's good!

That's so rude!

Mom was upstairs grabbing some diapers and doing laundry while Dad held me, so I thought it was the best time for my first deliberate smile when he stuck his tongue out at me. He got excited and called Mom down in time for her to see me smile again. The third time he did it, I smiled and then immediately stuck my tongue back out at him. Apparently this is some kind of polite greeting in our society, so I'm glad to learn this gesture early and plan to use it often, especially for Dad!

Looky Loo

The past few days I have been looking around a lot more. Dad, Mom, and Unc call that "eye time" and trade off who gets to hold me when I'm looking around. Whether they're busy or not, someone is always ready to pause what they're doing to give me attention and talk to me or make faces. At the restaurant last night I started fussing in my carrier. Everyone assumed I was hungry (which is a safe bet, since I'm always hungry). However, I just sat around holding tightly to mom's necklace (shiny!) and taking in the scenes for a long time. Everything is so new and fascinating.

Month One

At first, life is counted in days, then weeks. I've finally graduated to life in terms of months of age, since yesterday I was officially four weeks old. I am now able to hold my head up for long stretches of time and am following things with my vision as they move by shifting my eyes or moving my head to keep up. This month Mom discovered that I indeed love hot baths as much as she. She got in the tub and then let me sit in the water up to my armpits. I told her that I liked it by going from a full cry to a shocked silence. She now takes me in there most nights and lets me stay until just around the time I would get pruny if I weren't so fat. Dad is the maestro of all things gastrointestinal. Sometimes mom has to ask him if I'm crying because I'm hungry or because I have gas. He's just aces at coaxing man-sized burps from me, and he doesn't even complain when it turns out to be a bit more than a burp. He is also patiently tolerating my attempt at hair removal for him as I pull chunks of his chest hair out when he holds me. I think I like this guy. It's still the probationary period, but month one went well.