Hello, happy baby. You're five months old now, and this is the first time I've put up a newsletter late. We were all together in Boston visiting our cousins for Passover, and I forgot to write this ahead of time. I'm sorry, sweetie.
You are still a bit of a blob, but you're the happiest blob around. Everyone who makes eye contact with you gets a huge squinchy smile, and I can't tell you how many people have cooed over your cuteness and sweetness. I agree completely. You are such a happy, good boy and we all adore you. You seem to thrive on our smiles and when you grin back you seem so grateful for our attention. You love to be carried around, and you're content for hours if you're in our arms or in the Baby Bjorn.
You had your first bite of food on April 18th - a few shmears of avocado when we were all out to sushi. The first few went down without much response; you got a queer face eventually. Can't really blame you; it's a strange flavor. I'll start giving you baby food for real in a few days.
You are so incredibly close to turning over. I sat on the carpet with you for a half-hour, taking video clip after clip hoping to get your first roll on video. You were a little monster, though, and kept teasing me.
Photo Sharing - Video Sharing - Photo Printing - Photo Books
I started sleep-training you last night. I had planned to wait until you could suck your thumb and comfort yourself back to sleep, but I just can't take it anymore. We're starting small - I've committed to not feeding you from bedtime (7:30) until midnight. If you wake up, and you have, I'll let you cry for five minutes, go in and comfort you for a minute or two, then leave for another five minutes and keep this up until you're asleep. Last night it only took two comforts for you to be back asleep until 1 am. Of course you still tortured me with a 2:30 wakeup, a 4:30 wakeup, a 5:30 wakeup (which Daddy handled), and up for the morning at 6:30. I'll give you a week of the new routine, and then we'll start cutting out that 2:30 wakeup and go from there. Please cooperate, boozle - it'll go easier on both of us.
You are in absolute discomfort with two bottom teeth coming through at the same time. I can see your little gums opening up to let the teeth through, but nothing's poked out yet. You're constantly drooling, and I've taken to putting a cloth bib over any outfits I want to keep dry. You desperately chew and suck on anything you can haul into your mouth; your favorite object to torture is our thumbs. You're easy, though, you'll take just about anything. Please, little teeth, please come through. You're killing Jack and Jack's just about killing me.
Your brother is still your favorite person alive. He squishes you and rolls you and lays on top of you and you just grin at him the whole time. You are so incredibly lucky that Nate is your brother. I have a picture in my mind of the two of you out at a basketball game when you're older, having a beer and watching the game together. I see you talking, and not talking, and just being comfortable and familiar together. I pray that whatever influence I have on your relationship, I do the right things to help you love and respect each other. You're off to a pretty good start.
I love you,
Mama
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