You are two months old. Last night as I was putting your brother to bed, I tried to remember what our family was like without you. I only have a vague notion, actually. I do remember taking you home and staring at you and feeling grateful. Although it didn’t necessarily feel incomplete before you arrived, I realized once you got here that it had become complete. I knew how much I had wanted you. I never realized how much your brother would gain from having you and from being in the role of a big brother. When I watch him watching you, I get a glimpse at the kind of father he will become one day.
We learned how to breastfeed. I feel so proud of us for doing it. I like feeding you now that it hurts less. I’m also proud that we’re learning to communicate. You have a famous quivering lip. I’m pretty sure that it usually means hungry or tired. While the straight back and legs accompanied by a blood-curling wail usually indicates a painful gas situation in your belly. When I can’t figure it out, I remember to check your diaper, where the final motivation for crankdom usually reveals itself.
Now you have times now when you are both awake and happy. When you smile, you smile with your whole upper body. The smile starts at your lips, moves up through your eyes, then you throw your head back and your shoulders up, as though the person being graced with your attention has just said the funniest thing you ever heard– which is quite possible, since you have only been alive for two months. We love your smile.
You still have all of your hair. It is a popular topic of conversation. Well, the topic is two-fold. It is both, look at all that hair! And I thought it would be red… oh, I think I see some highlights. And one more thing, Is it going to fall out? Like Mommy somehow knows the answer to that one.
When you were inside of Mommy, we had a hard time thinking of a nickname for you. Now they come in abundance. For some reason, Mommy started calling you “Tuh Tuh.” We don’t know what it means or where it comes from, but it seems to fit you quite well. Then just the other day, you were suddenly “Toots” then “Tootsie.” Grandma calls you “Big Shot,” which is funny because you are so big in a little way. Cakie took your name, which is not one condusive to the diminutive “y” endings so many American names have and he stuck an “y” at the end of it anyway.
I’m looking forward to getting to know you better, my love. I remember when your brother was around three months he became a major league flirt. Now I don’t expect you to be just like him, but I would truly enjoy to see that smile more often.
PS Thanks for sleeping so well, big guy. Can you teach your big brother how to do it?