Dear Lewis: a letter at three months

dearlewis-2

 

 

 

My Muffin.
Muffster.
Mr. Baby.
Lewlabee Jones.

These are the names we call you by. You are three months old and so much a part of us already.

Out of nowhere, you have this personality with likes and dislikes. You are becoming more vocal. You have abandoned your goat sounds for full-on cries, but they are rare. More often, you sort of whine, and talk to us, voicing your displeasure, as if to say, “Someone, please…something’s not quite right.” And usually, it’s just eye contact you’re looking for, flashing an easy smile once someone comes to check out what’s wrong.

img_6090 And you laugh now too! Your first laugh came at 2.5 months old (August 28). You were up late with your dad and I, who were sitting on the couch talking about very adult things like mortgages and buying a house, when you just looked at your Dad, and started smiling and laughing. It was honestly more like a coo, a happy huuuuu as you smiled broadly. The two of us laughed along with you. Just now, your laughs are starting to sound slightly more like laughs – with a little gasp in between – but your low-voiced huuus have us hooked.

You laugh often now. Mostly at Owen. You love Owen. Elsa too, but Owen. He doesn’t even need to be looking at you, or even near you. He enters a room with his Owen volume, and you immediately crack up. And he feeds off of it. The other day, he got you laughing at peek-a-boo for the first time, and he did it over and over again until your laughter stopped. Since day one, he has loved you. Wants to take care of you, engage you, make you happy.  I think you will always get a kick out of him, and daily, I pray that the two of you will be buds.

Recently, you’ve started trying out your voice. Making funny squawking sounds and sighing. As you wake up from naps or find yourself alone, I hear you doing these happy little gasps and sighing them out. It as at once cooing and sighing – but it is this overwhelmingly happy and satisfied sound.

You are starting to grab at toys, especially your interlocking rings, and you are still completely smitten with that pink jingly owl. You want absolutely nothing to do with the paci, but you have finally gotten the hang of getting your fingers in your mouth. Sometimes a finger, sometimes a thumb, sometimes both, but your hands are always in your mouth. If I pull one away, you immediately put the other one in. We change you about four times a day, your shirt soaked in drool. I’m convinced you are teething…the drool, your penchant for clamping down on me when we nurse, plus your complete disinterest in being put down the last few days, but we have yet to see any evidence of an actual tooth coming in.

You’re getting so strong and stable, though you hate being on your belly, so I’m not too worried about your crawling around just yet. Your head is strong, and we put you in the Bumbo now. And you sit up, happy to be a part of things, all of your chub crammed into those little leg-openings. Lewis, you are enormous. You weigh 17 pounds (similar to what Owen did at this age), but your cheeks. Your cheeks are outrageous. You are a chipmunk. A porkchop, as your grandma pam calls you. Your cheeks are wide and wonderful. Your hair, thinning but dark. Your eyes the brightest blue. Your arms and legs are like little fully stuffed sausages and you are almost exclusively wearing 6-9 month clothes, and sometimes I freak out and just want to cram you back into my womb and make you tiny again, but you are big and jolly, and I love that Lewis too.

img_6080You love being outside. You love being tucked in the Ergo carrier. You love your Dad’s voice and sitting up, and you think it’s so funny to have your legs and arms moved for you. You laugh when we play “This is the way the lady rides…” saving your biggest laughs for the farmer’s hobbledy-hos. You smile so big when we sing, “My God is So Big,” as I stretch your arms above your head. You love your baths, and are just getting the hang of kicking your legs like a maniac to make splashy waves around you.

We just love you so much, Baby Lew. We spend our days trying to make you smile, make you laugh. Owen and Elsa are constantly petting your unbelievably soft hair, or forcing pacis in your mouth when you cry. We all clamor for you in the morning when you are soft and warm and mewly, and in your fleece sleep sacks, more cuddly than anything. You wake up and make shifting sounds, and break into smiles the moment you see our faces leaning over you – as if you’re surprised and delighted to see us again. You are just so good for all of us.

I love you so, so much.

Your Mom

Things you love: baths, being naked, kicking your legs, being made to dance/stretch, putting weight on your feet, music, Owen, Elsa, the carrier, burping, your Dad, me, sucking on your hands, your Owl toy, interlocking rings, riding in the car, nursing, sleeping in our bed

Things you hate: pacis, teething toys, laying flat on your back, tummy time, being put down when you fall asleep on my shoulder, being strapped into the carseat, having shirts put on, being in the bumbo too long

 

 

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