Two months

Happy two month birthday, my little poop monster!

Despite the fact that I tell you every day to stop growing dagnabbit! I just want to enjoy my tiny baby a little bit longer!, you persist in getting absolutely enormous. Thirteen and a half pounds! Granted, each cheek weighs a pound easy, which helps add to the total, but geez! You're in the 97th percentile for your weight. And you're tall, too... not quite 97th percentile tall, and not even 90th like last month. More like 80th. Which means that you're a very, er, healthy baby. So healthy that the doctor, upon examining your thigh when she was about to give you your shot, decided to use a bigger needle, because the one she usually uses for two month olds wouldn't make it through your layer of chub! I could have told her that. Your Dad and I snack on those thighs every day when we change you, and boy, are they plump and juicy. No wonder I'm still not back in my pre-pregnancy pants. You're growing so fast that I think I'll just put aside the clothes I was wearing before I got pregnant for you to wear. At this rate, you should be in them by the end of this year.

You're also brilliant. I think your biggest milestone this month was learning to smile. There's no better reason for getting out of bed than to say good morning to you and see your little face light up with that goofy, gummy, grin when you see me again after a long sleep. Your Daddy can't wait to see you when he comes home from work, too. Your favorite is the "Leg Game", where he wiggles your legs back and forth while singing a little song, and you make delighted faces and gurgle at him. I'm amazed how quickly you learned to love us and how much you enjoy just sitting in our laps as we chat with you. You can even follow us around the room with your eyes, and I'm pretty sure you finally figured out that the dog is a living breathing thing. I can't blame you for taking two months to pick up on his existence; he doesn't move much. You also love to talk with us, and you make all sorts of insanely adorable coos and gurgles as you tell us all about what's going on in your baby world. Honestly, I think that I'd be okay with you sticking with that level of "speech". At least then you'll never learn to talk back.

Your eyesight has improved immensely, too. Right now, you're particularly fascinated with the necklace I've been wearing. You spend at least 20 minutes every day contentedly transfixed by it, and I've promised to give it to you when you're older. It's enough to make a Mama cry thinking about how I'll give it to you and tell you all about how I used to hold you for hours and we'd just gaze at each other, and you'd stare and stare at that necklace and make me laugh. And, being a teenager, you'll probably roll your eyes and say, "Whatever." It's so hard for me to believe that someday I won't need to sit next to you, ready to catch you if you start to tip over or if your neck gets tired from holding your sweet little head up. It's probably a good thing; it'd be a little awkward by the time you're in college.

At least for now you're still snuggled up against my chest, your favorite place to nap. And if, after a big weekend at college, you do need someone to hold your head up during your 9 am Intro to Philosophy class, give me a call. I'll always be there for you, little one. You'll always be my baby.

Love,
Mom