Smith, I'm starting to see what a happy baby you really are. We're figuring out how to communicate together and even though my attention is now split between three children, I've never felt so in tune with reading your needs and knowing the subtle nuances in your cries that tell me whether you're hungry, tired, or scared.
You're the best at falling asleep on your own as long as you're in a soft spot and have your pacifier but you can't resist the sheepskin in your Moses basket. It's your cue to let those heavy lids fall. You laughed for me for the first time today and I didn't even do anything funny. I love that you just laughed because you were happy.
Your sister adores you and your brother stops to kiss you every time he passes by and your daddy loves when you tell him all about your day when he gets home. You're such a cooer! It's enough to forgive the river of gold that flowed out of your pants this morning and onto my lap just as I was finishing breakfast. I've never seen such a mess. You win. I used a half a package of wipes (I kid but almost) to clean us both up before handing you over to your daddy in the shower and you went ahead and emptied your bladder all over my shirt. And I wonder why our laundry mountain is always with us.
My favorite thing is your bashful smile and the way you clasp your hands under your chin when I talk to you in my sing song voice. There's nothing like it in this world, Smith.