You, my youngest son, are just lovely (when you’re not crying). You get pretty excited about: having people hold you, especially when that person is me, drinking milk, your brother’s goofy face game, colorful pictures, laying outside and having a dry diaper. You don’t like: sleeping laying down (“please wrap me in a sling and bounce me on a yoga ball” you say to me daily), when your brother pulls on your limbs, being away from your mama (me), riding in the car or being set down.
We still think you look like your dad. You’re starting to flirt with that smile of yours. Strangers love you. You’re great in public (mostly).
Your grandpa will hold you forever if you let him. Your meme (grandma) thinks you’re pretty sweet. Your dad loves every second he gets with you while you’re happy, he hates hearing you get upset. He is excited for the day when you like hanging with daddy
more than just as much as mama.
You are drooling through at least 5 shirts a day. Chewing on everything, including your right hand, mainly your pointer finger. You’re also growing like a weed. 6 month clothes fit nicely. Time to box up the little stuff I guess.
Oh did I mention that we love you? Well we do. I think everyone that meets you loves you to pieces. That smile of yours just melts me.