Four months.

My sweet Bobby,

Today you turn four months old! Whew. A third of the way to a year. Big leagues.

It also happens to be St. Patty’s Day. If you were expecting mom and dad to celebrate and take you somewhere fun and lively and full of green beer, you clearly don’t realize how tired/old we are (in our defense, most of that age/exhaustion is directly correlated to the existence of you and your sister).

To be totally honest I’m more than happy to spend the day inside with you. Because you’re a pretty awesome little dude. Sure, you still don’t have a ton of tricks, but in the last month, you’ve seemed to grow a personality out of the nebulous blob of infancy.

We did go through a bit of a trying phase, your first real, noticeable cranky period/developmental leap. It lasted a couple of weeks. Really, compared to your sister, it wasn’t even all that bad. Basically you just wanted to be held more, were less content in the chair or jumparoo or floor mat, and cried more frequently and harder when you did get upset. Oh, and you stopped sleeping through the night (but even on your worse night you only woke twice to feed, so it could certainly could have been worse).

I’m not going to hold it against you, because I know that little brain of yours was all afire, sparking with a million new synapses and neurons every day. You seem so much more present , aware of the world around you, and more participatory in it. You grab stuff now, and really hold onto it. You inspect things and people, watch your sister and George and try to figure out what these weird monsters are doing.

It went away for a little while during your cranky period (Picasso had a blue period, you had a fussy period, every artist goes through it), but your smile has returned, and then some. You use it so much, when you wake up from naps and gurgle happily until someone picks you up, when someone holds you close enough you can see their face in all of its detail. You smile at toys and bright colors and the TV. You stop eating to smile. I’ll look down, distracted, and there you are, grinning ear to ear at me, happy as a dopey clam.

You have one teeny dimple on your left cheek, and when you smile that moonstruck smile of yours, it pops up before disappearing again, like a little secret. You also have learned to giggle, an involuntary noise that seems to come from the center of your being, and the surest way to elicit it is by tickling you under your arms.

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You aren’t a newborn anymore. As hard as it is for me to admit it’s so obvious. You don’t coma sleep. You actually need to be put down for naps, preferably somewhere quiet and dark. You’re slowly but surely becoming less portable, less of a house plant in a diaper, more of a human baby with somewhat of a (loose) schedule.

You also technically can start solids now! Don’t get too excited though. I may hold off a little while, because experience taught me with your sister that solids = smelly poops, and I’m not in a super hurry to enter that phase of life. You also still seem pretty content with the whole breast milk thing.

You still have very little hair, but you have a lovely head (that’s only a tiny bit flat) so that’s okay. Bald looks good on you.

You have also developed a really impressive bottom lip quiver, pout, crocodile tear maneuver. You bust this out when something is really loud or you’ve been neglected too long or your crazy sister “accidentally” careens into you.

It probably goes without saying that you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.

Oh my mellow, easy going boy. You are a little pool of calm and sweetness in my life. I love our snuggles, when you fall asleep comfort nursing, one little hand clutching my shirt. I love when I wake up at night and see your little face beside me in the rock n play (although by next month that may be a thing of the past, it’s okay, we’ll get through it together). I love your coos and gurgles and gaga’s, your big blue eyes and chubby little cheeks. You may no longer be a newborn, but you are still all baby, with all that baby chub and peach fuzz hair and heavenly new baby smell. I know that in seconds you will be a toddler, running around like a maniac. But for today at least, you are my perfect, easy little 4-month-old.

I love you a lot.

Kisses,

Mama

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