Felix is now three months and life feels more normal. After the initial weeks of sleep deprivation, labor recovery, raging hormones, and sore nipples I’m really enjoying our little boy. He discovered his hands not too long ago and sometimes chooses to suck on them in lieu of a pacifier. He’s a big time smiler and seems to only cry when he’s hungry. He’s thisclose to laughing and every day I try new ways of getting him to. He rolled over for the first time yesterday as TH and I were debating his superbowl outfit.
TH: No, you can’t put him in orange. Broncos are orange.
ME: Jeez okay, it’s not like either of us knew the Broncos were playing.
Rule no.1 of becoming a sports fan, Felix, you turn superstitious. See, if I hadn’t changed him out of orange, the Broncos may have won and I’d never hear the end of it.
But back to relevant stuff. Felix, he’s a cutie. Of course any mother should say that and I promise I’ll never end that with a question. That just begs for the awkward, uhh, uhhh, from people forced to tell you yes. People usually say he looks just like TH or just like me. Although I used to think he looked a little like Mark Wahlberg but TH is the father so that eliminates any cause for concern.
His activities still mostly consist of eating, sleeping and pooping but he’s a little more alert every day, making things that much more exciting. I sometimes (all the time) just stare at him, thinking I can’t wait until he starts talking or walking. But I know that time will quickly come so I’m patient and enjoying this stage because he’ll never be this little again.