As you can imagine, the baby was the star of the show during Christmas. He lit up the room; he smiled random little smiles (that sometimes evolved into tears, gas, or sleep); instead of either wailing or sleeping he has also started making little cooing noises (a stepping stone towards speech according to the books). Every time he sneezes he let’s out a little sigh (i.e “AAACHHOOOO……aaah”).

It’s all ridiculous and tiny but each little thing is new and we haven’t seen any of it before. I mean you hear and read about babies learning to speak, sleep, etc. but none of it really clicks until you see your own tiny person trying it out for themselves. Thus, I catch myself speaking to my son in a sing-song voice (encourages language developement), admiring his poops (‘holy crap that’s an impressive amount!’), and generally making a big fuss over him, (a key factor in bonding).

Perhaps this is why we go above and beyond to take care of our children. It’s why I find myself bouncing him up and down on the medicine ball at 4am despite the pain in my head. Images plague me all the time regarding his well-being and safety. Josh was playing with him recently–which included holding the baby in the palm of his hand. The baby would balance for a few seconds before falling back into Josh’s arms. I wasn’t paying attention until suddenly I realized that my son was being palmed like a basketball before flying in the air for a few seconds at the impressive height of 6′6 before being caught. “DON’T DO THAT!” I roared like a mama bear before bursting into tears. Josh apologized repeatedly and said sagely, “I’m sure mothers have been protecting their babies for centuries from over-enthusiastic rough housing.”

Indeed.