“You’re huge.” Daddy and I say that all the time. It is amazing how big you’ve gotten in four short weeks. We throw around ideas about your future occupation: hockey player, basketball player, resident giant in freak shows. So far, all of your careers center around the fact that you’re huge. Huge. I’m sure you have many more talents, but for now we have to go with what we know. So there.
This is the month of the intentional smile. On July 1st, you smiled at me for the first time. I felt a little like an idiot for the facial acrobatics I had to do to wrestle it out of you, but there it was. I captured the moment on my cell phone. And if I hadn’t thrown away the little piece that connects to my computer, I would be sharing that smile with all of your faithful blog readers. But alas, I looked at that piece and said, “I’ll never use this,” and threw it away. You have a dimple on each cheek when you smile, just like your dad. But the cutest thing is that your eyes start to smile before your mouth actually breaks out into that grin. You smile easily. In the morning, you greet the day with a smile, which is a treat for whoever gets you from your crib. Often, when you’re eating you will grin for no apparent reason. Even when you’re a little sleepy, you manage a smile or two. I will never tire of seeing your smile.
You love to kick. At first I was a little worried that you would only kick your right leg. You would pull it up and kick it out while keeping your left leg ramrod straight. My paranoid self thought, “Oh no, he’s got hip troubles and can’t kick his other leg.” It turns out you were just practicing one leg at a time, because a few days later, there went the left leg, while the right one was straight as an arrow. Perhaps you are methodical in your work like your mother. We shall see.
The nights have gotten better. You will sleep four to five hours in a row at night before needing to eat. I have gotten many, many books read while feeding you. At first I tried to talk to you and sing to you the whole time you ate, but after a while, the one-way conversation became repetitive and boring. I swear you were as bored as I was with the meaningless chatter. I talked with my mom about it, saying that I wanted to help you develop good language skills by talking to you, but it was exhausting to keep up the flow of words. She said, “Ohmigod, eating is work, not play time. Give yourself a break!” As in, get over it, his language skills will be fine. So I read. I read novels, books that I would never have time to read during the day. I’ve read more books in the last two months than I think I read the entire time you were in my belly. I enjoy that time with you. We can be close and snuggle, you doing your work of eating and me reading for pleasure. It seems like a good trade.
I have a feeling that I could end each letter with this statement: this month with you was better than the last. You are developing your little personality and showing off your wonderful self a little more each day. And I am the lucky one that gets to watch it all unfold.