James:
My favorite thing about you is how easily you smile. You are a happy baby and are made even happier when someone looks into your face and talks or sings to you.
You are huge. Almost fifteen pounds at two months old, and 24" tall. You seemed like a fragile newborn for maybe a month, and then suddenly you were this big, sturdy kid. You're like a six month old. Sometimes, between your size and the fact that you've been holding your head on your own basically since you were born, I forget how new you are. It may also be that you're my second baby, or even that you're a boy, but I feel less cautious with you-- much less nervous than I was with Emma.
And speaking of Emma, you two adore each other. You smile when you hear her voice. She nearly suffocates you with hugs and kisses. I know she's excited for you to grow and be able to play with her. Once, she tried to play hide and seek with you by putting a pillow on your face and I nearly had a heart attack, but I knew she didn't mean any harm.
You are a sweet boy. A mellow boy. You rarely cry. I adore your delicate eyelashes and pudgy baby hands and golden curls and dimpled chin and the warm spot on your neck where I nuzzle you. I know that by the time you're old enough to read this, you'll probably be grossed out by the idea of your mom nuzzling you and totally uninterested in how you acted as a baby. But I'm going to write about it anyway because here and now, it's my world and it's special to me.
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