3 Months

James:

You are growing up so quickly. I swear, everything happens faster with the second baby. Maybe because I know that stages will end, unlike with Emma when it seemed that the way things were would be the way they were forever. I didn't know better.

I put you in a 9 month old sized onesie yesterday and it was a good fit. You were three months old a couple of days ago. I can't get over how big you are. You are tall and perfectly chubby. One of my favorite things right now is to lay in bed next to you look down to see your pudgy bare summer legs and sweet baby feet spread out on top of the blanket (always on top of, never under. You're like your sister in that way, kicking blankets off of you as soon as you've been able). I just think to myself how you're the best little ball of baby, soft and milky and irresistibly adorable.

You are happiest in the morning. You often wake up about half an hour before Emma and you and I make silly faces and giggle at each other. It is the best.

I recently discovered two great ways to make you laugh. One is to sit you up and tickle your back. I start at the bottom of your spine and work my fingers up and you arch your back and laugh uncontrollably. The other way is to hold you up in the air, airplane style. You love this. As soon as you're up, you break out in a big gummy grin and then the giggles start. You love this so much, in fact, that you cry when I put you back down. Maybe this love of flying means you'll be a pilot someday. Or an astronaut. Who knows.

First Laughter

James:

You laughed for the first time this weekend as we were moving into our new house. Janet was playing with you in your bouncy chair and you started chuckling. It was the cutest thing.

I got you to laugh again today by making funny raspberry sounds. Your laughter makes me so happy. I want to make you laugh all the time.

Baby Boy Scent

James:

For quite a while, you smelled like cheese. I'm sorry, but you did. You've taken on a new smell now, though. I recognized it immediately but couldn't figure out what it was. I just knew it made me think of childhood. And then, with a deep inhalation, it was totally clear: you smell exactly like raisins. (And I really like it.)

Chicken Houses

Emma:

Before bed, you like to lay next to me and sing/recite every song and nursery rhyme that my tired mommy brain can come up with. You know the words to a surprising number of them and catch on quickly to the ones that are new by parroting the last words in each line. 

Then you like to play with my hair. You ask for two pieces of mommy hair and then for a screwdriver (sometimes two) so I give you imaginary screwdrivers and you're very excited. Then you twist my hair in your little hands while informing me that you are making a chicken house or sometimes a duckie house and then you ask me to look at it, even though it's at the back of my head and there's no way for me to see. But I always tell you that you've made a beautiful chicken house and you are very pleased with yourself.