Thursday, March 7, 2013

Caden, February

You are a ham, a card, a stinker.  Your sense of humor is already evident in your smile and the constant twinkle in your eyes. 

You sit up now and can keep your head aloft without help.  Thus, you're obsessed with sitting and standing, perpetually pushing up onto your feet with a huge smile. 

Your chunky quads are adorable.  So are your monkey toes.  I'm convinced you'll be able to pick up tiny things with your toes once you realize they're down there.

You sleep through the night now.  Not every night, but enough to give your mom and dad a break.  We thank you. 

You're an easy baby.  You rarely fret.  You only cry at stoplights in the car or when you're hungry. 

You love to eat.

You are now addicted to your pacifier.  The only conflict in this new found relationship is when you want to smile, which is often.  Then the darned thing pops out.  It's a terrible thing, you know.

You smile constantly. 

You have a happy soul.  It shines through your grin and sparkles in your eyes.  You will bring great joy to many people, I believe.

Right now, you're in a class full of girls.  Your teachers are so kind to you, but especially Miss Rena.  She adores you.  Thus, we adore her.

Our bottles together before bed are my favorite moments of the day.  We tuck into a cuddle and you hold my fingers with both hands.  I kiss your forehead and sing to you.  I cherish every night.

You make a lot of boogers.  You also spit up tons.  We do a lot of laundry around here.

This month, we thought you might be ready for solids.  So we propped you up in the highchair and started with the rice cereal.  You hollered like mad!  Apparently, you either HATE rice cereal or you're not really ready for solids.

You desperately want to roll over, but only to the right.  Never to the left.  I'm not even sure you know that you can go that way.

You look exactly like your dad.  It is actually a little creepy when you're together, the resemblance is so strong.

Your tiny little tuft of dark hair on the back of your head remains just that...tiny.  Like your sister, a full head of hair is clearly months away.

This month, you have waken up to the world.  You soak in as many details as possible all day long.  You're curious and joyous.  The warmth of your smile infects everyone around you, stopping loved ones and strangers in their tracks.  You have the power to shift the course of my day, wiping away piles of meaningless stress with that first flash of recognition when I pick you up from school.  You are my darling son.  I love you to pieces. 

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