Two months. I have that silly conflicted feeling of it being both much shorter and much longer than that. Shorter because things are still so new. Every day you change so much. Longer because while I remember what it was like before you came, I can't imagine life being any different than it is now because our little family feels so complete. And you're so strong! Holding your head up so high, scooting all over your play mat, smiling and flirting with me, rolling over. It's ridiculous. You must think you're six months old or something.
You are such a little chunk, dear Thomas. This morning I weighed you on our scale at home and it said an impossible 11.5 lbs. That's humongous! No wonder I get tired carrying you around everywhere and my arm falls asleep when you nurse. Your cheeks are so big and so kissably soft. They actually hang down from your face.
And your feet. Ohmigosh your feet. They are so chubby. And so small. And I could just die. Lily had long, skinny feet that always (and still do) seem a little too big for the rest of her. But yours are almost comically short and pudgy. I love them.
You're so very tolerant of most things. Your crazy sister who wants to play with you and hold you and scare you and dance with you and read to you and paint on you and fix things for you and, and, and. All at the same time. Your crazy mama who sometimes has to let your cry a little longer than she would like while keeping Lily alive. And your crazy dada who sings you silly songs and does all he can to make you happy while mama takes a break.
Keep on growing, little Thomas. There are great things to come.
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