100 Messages in 100 Tiny Bottles

I’m writing this to you now, so that when you grow up you will know what a delightful little baby you were. Time and distance dulls the mind, and I’m writing this as much for myself as for you.

You are happy and smiling almost every moment you are awake. You rarely cry, and if you do there is usually a reason for it: hunger, sleepiness, frustration, pain. Nearly every night you go to sleep with little fuss, sometimes falling asleep as I’m feeding you your last meal of the day. You go limp in my arms, your drunk baby pose.

When I place you in your crib, you immediately roll to your right side and suck your right thumb. If you’re still awake, I read you Goodnight Moon. Then I kiss you many times, say “I love you, sweet dreams, sleep well, goodnight.” In the same order every night, with kisses in between each phrase. Sometimes you’ve already rolled onto your tummy and are getting ready for a full night of sleep. Yes, you sleep through the night, and have done since you were about 10 weeks old. We are such lucky parents, and you are a well-rested baby. Daddy and I can’t resist going into your room many times before we go to bed to peek at you and see what pose you’ve taken (butt in the air?) and where you are in the crib (in the opposite corner from where you started the night?). We often giggle and marvel at how cute you are, not really believing we could have made you.

In the morning, you wake up in a happy mood. We usually know you’re up because we can hear you talking to yourself over the audio monitor. Daddy goes into your room every morning to greet you and change your diaper. You always push your upper body up with your arms to look at him, and give a bright smile. Often you’ll shriek and coo throughout the morning as we get you and ourselves ready for the day. Every day Daddy and I say how lucky we are to have such an amazing, easygoing, bright, sweet, and cheerful son.

Your giggle is the most awesome thing I have ever heard. I will do anything to make it happen.

All my love,

Mommy

The reason we gave you the name Timshel.

• rolling over from front to back, especially while sleeping
• sleeping with his bum in the air
• turning around in crib in his sleep, sometimes a full 180 degrees
• turning pages of a book (with a little help from Mommy)
• reaching for and sometimes grabbing a foot
• smiling at the “handsome” baby in the mirror
• sucking his right thumb, and all other fingers, too
• “standing up” with assistance
• “Flying Baby” and “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Baby”
• Goodnight Moon and Very Hungry Caterpillar
• in the bath, splashing with legs 
• smiling at everything
• making new friends with strangers
• laughing at silly and not-so-silly things
• laughing at Mommy while eating
• Daddy’s animal growl
• the squeaky noise on his playmat
• sucking lower lip then making spitty, razzy sounds
• “Old MacDonald” with animal finger puppets
• grabbing at dangling things with both hands, then trying to shove whatever it is in his mouth
• getting angry with anything he can’t get in his mouth
• music: Stevie Wonder, The Beatles, Arcade Fire, “Hey Ya!” by Outkast

First you, resting,

curled up.

Then me, an envelope,

resting

in your fetal position.

Then Dad, curling & resting,

a fence

around us.

(via misswallflower)

(perhaps Dad will take a picture when this happens again, or perhaps you’ll see it for yourself soon)