Dear Baz // 3 Months



Dear Baz,
Fourteen weeks ago today we brought you home from the hospital, now you are 3 months old. A quarter year. A season. The weather has turned from colorful autumn to barren winter. You have morphed from a wiggly fragile newborn, to a robust chunky baby. Everyday you show us more of your personality, and in the past week alone you’ve surprised us with several new tricks.

One night when we heard you fussing your dad went to get you from your crib so I could feed you. There you were lying on your stomach. Wiggling your head around as though trying to say “how did I get like this?”. Whether intentionally or not, you couldn’t stop rolling over once you started. So we had a trend wherein we would put you down on your back, calm you with a pacifier and go slide back under the covers of our own bed. Not many minutes later you would start to wail as you found yourself on your tummy again. Aaand back to one.

You know how to roll from your tummy to your back, but I think the shock of ending up on your tummy on your own upset you. I played the game with you for a little while the next night, and then gave up and brought you into bed with us. There we do not have enough room for anyone to roll over. You slept until 9:30 the next morning. I’m not sure if you slept so late because you were so comfortable between your dad and me, or if you were exhausted from the late night rolling shenanigans.

You’re still coming into work with me for now, and everyone there is a big fan of you. You save up most of your crying for when we are at home, which both my co-workers and I appreciate (to be fair you’re not a huge cryer overall). You seem to thrive when you are around a few other people (but not too many, you don’t like lot’s of people sticking their mugs in your face). You’re generous with your smiles, and don’t mind being passed around. I think you might end up being slightly extroverted like me.

There are moments now when we play and you will erupt into the most joyful smile and squeal. Oh my lands does it melt my heart. The purity of your glee has actually brought tears to my eyes. I want to bottle up these moments and keep them forever and ever.

You are growing so stinking fast. You can now sit in your Bumbo chair with only the slightest hint of neck wobble and if we hold you upright you put weight on your legs like you’re ready to start practice walking. I respectfully ask that you slow down little tiger. The other night I told your dad that this age is why people want to have babies. You are certainly keeping my tendency to focus on the future in check. We have a lot to look forward to, but the now is just so awesome.

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