He's pretty cute. He's super sassy. Loves lights, mobiles, and his mom's hair. Hates a wet diaper, being hungry, and dad's beard. He doesn't so much want to lay his head on your shoulder as try to hold his head up in manner of a 1998 Lance Bass Bobblehead doll. He is just the tiniest bit gaseous. Or more than tiny. Basically, its hard for people at stores and such to believe that the little bundle in the carseat caused that sound or smell. They give us THAT look. He loves a musical bouncy seat with a Jamaican theme, he's learning to like a baby swing, and he can't get enough of the dangly-fish play mat. He doesn't hate mom's singing voice, or her need to sing Womanizer by Britney Spears constantly.
Many an afternoon is spent in his Baby Bjorn grooving to some Abba, Pink, and Journey with his ma while she attempts to clean. He is basically 100% Rob (my sister calls him Rob jr.), I was merely a vessel to get him here. His last well baby growth chart revealed him to be in the 95th percentile for height, a trait he for sure did not get from me. Most of his onesies fit like capri pants, so we've invested in taller socks for full leg coverage.
All-in-all I think he's a keeper.
No comments:
Post a Comment