Lumberjack Lou, you are my favorite little human.
You are two months plus four days old. We took you to a new pediatrician at a closer hospital for a general check up and vaccinations the other day. Guess what? You are rocking out to life these days at 14 lbs and 24 inches long. Ha 🙂 In the Harris home, we have low centers of gravity and you are fitting right in. But really, Louis, quit growing so much and so fast. Slow down.
I love having you as my baby boy, but can’t ignore that your body is already stretching out a bit more each day. Your toes dangle off my lap when we sit in the rocking chair. And when I lean you up against my raised knees into a V-shape, your feet drum against my chest when I sing songs and tickle your belly. With every ounce of weight you gain, you are also learning how to express yourself in new ways — sweet coos, deep grunts, indignant yells, sleepy smiles, aww-inducing pouts, expectantly raised brows.
Each day your body grows stronger, and although you can’t even roll over yet, you sure do know how to hold your head up long enough to make your opinion known with a quick yap of a cry. Your eyes track and linger on the pictures we have on the walls. You turn your head when you hear one of our voices calling out to you. At times I’ll look at you and can see past your smooshy cheeks and toothless smile and instead see a little boy. A little boy with a sly grin who will probably be getting into all sorts of mischief and trying to charm or negotiate his way out of lectures. A boy who will also quietly and contentedly sit beside his father just observing the sights and sounds around them while solving crossword puzzles together. A person with feelings and preferences and unique abilities ready to experience the wonder of every day.