Maybe a week ago you rolled over for the first time. But a couple of days ago, you began rolling over constantly. It’s almost not under your control – we put you down on a bed or couch, you immediately roll to the left and end up on your face, and then squawk in anger that you are on your face. We flip you back, you do it again. It’s quite silly.
I took you to a baby shower yesterday and you were bright-eyed and looking around the whole time. Everybody says you look like me, but I say you look like dad. You are in the 90th percentile, so a bit smaller than Jack, though still plenty big. There was a one year old at this baby shower and you and he were the same height. No lie.
We’ve just started putting you in the Exersaucer, and you dig it. You like to lean over and gnaw on all the toys. You love to gnaw – especially cloth. Whatever’s in your hands – and frequently it is my hair – you will bring it to your mouth and chew and drool. I love the faces you make when you do this – a nose crinkly, eye smooshing, gaping mouth aimed at your target. I guess you figure the bigger you open your mouth, the more likely you’ll be able to get it in there.
Tonight we gave you cereal for the first time. You were not as enthusiastic as your brother, but you didn’t make terrible faces. You tried to suckle the spoon, and the rice cereal spilled out all over your bib and footed pajamas. Then I fed you a bottle with a little cereal in it, and then I nursed you – you were insatiable. You’ve since been put to bed and cried several times already, but I still foolishly hope this will help you sleep through the night.
Sleeping with you in my bed is perhaps not the best way to get sleep, but it is so sweet. I’m trying my best to move you out of there, so that I can get good zzzs, and I’ve just started sleeping on the couch so that you can have my whole room to yourself and perhaps then sleep better. But I’ll miss these early days, when we slept together every night. You curled up into my stomach, or perhaps a little apart from me but with arms and legs flung wide, your little hand touching my shoulder. No one will ever need me the way that you babies of mine need me in these first few months of life, and I find it precious. Precious, and exhausting, and therefore it has to come to an end. I’ll try not to cry about this. I cry a lot these days, over you, my boy, and how swiftly you grow.
In some ways, being the second child is a bit of a bummer, but in this way you should know it is a bonus – I know just exactly how fast you will grow, and therefore I am way better at just experiencing and cherishing your babyhood than I was with your brother. Jack was my only for a while, but he was (and continues to be) the leading edge of my experience, and everything with him is a little more fraught because it’s the first time I’ve had to deal with it. With you, I’m much more relaxed, and even though you have a very distracting big brother, on balance I still feel like I am much more able to just chill out and enjoy you, in a way that I couldn’t with him. I just look at your little elfin face sometimes – your wiggling legs, your tiny feet – and marvel. I can’t slow down your record growth, but in knowing how quickly it is going to go, I can catch more of it.
You remain RAMROD STRAIGHT whenever possible, and I see now why my pregnancy was so godawful. You had to be stretched out at all times, and thus did I lose my ability to breathe. I remember clearly those terrible nights when I felt like I was drowning, and now watching you stand up straight for hours on end, I know exactly why!
It’s late and I have to finish a paper, but I wanted to record some memories of you. I can’t tell you enough how much of a delight you are. You smile so sweetly at everyone, you giggle and laugh, you love to be tossed in the air or gobbled up at playtime, or massaged with baby lotion after the bath that you also love to pieces (and love to splash in). Four months is a great time in our lives together, little man. I love you now and always!