Two Months (already?)

December 2, 2009
Dear J,

You’re napping, and I’m just going to ignore laundry, dirty bottles, the mail, and packing for a few minutes, so that I can write you this letter. It’s a week late, but that’s the way things go these days. You’re two months and one week old today, and it’s strange to say, but the time has both flown and crawled by.

You went to the doctor last week, and you were less than an ounce shy of 13 pounds. It seems that it takes most children four months or more to get to that weight, so I must say – well done! The doctor said to just keep doing what we’re doing. Everything looks good.

You’ve been doing the cutest things, too. For about a week or two, anytime you sneezed or coughed, when you were done, you would coo while you exhaled. The description doesn’t do it justice; it was just about the cutest thing I’ve seen. You’re really smiling all the time now, and you have even started laughing. Most of the time the laugh is silent, but sometimes there’s even an audible chuckle in there.

You love your activity mat, but not when you’re on your tummy. I’ve discovered that rolling you onto your tummy is the best way to turn you from smiling to red, wrinkle-faced screaming in three seconds flat.

A friend at work told me something that her friend told her, and I have to put it here because it’s absolutely the truth. As a parent, you think you’ve just seen the coolest or cutest or most wonderful thing, but the next day, there will be something even better. The best thing about having children is that every day is better than the day before.

Then it was Thanksgiving, which has taken on a whole new meaning now that you’re in our lives. Frankly, it’s not just Thanksgiving, it’s pretty much everything, but Thanksgiving was a great time to reflect on your place with us. That’s understating it. You are our lives now; everything is reflected in or upon you somehow, and it’s a beautiful feeling. The joy you bring is immeasurable.

It seems that you’re already waking up from your nap, so I’ve got to run. I love you, and can’t wait for what tomorrow brings – Charleston and your first road trip, as a matter of fact.

Love,
Mom