When I was thinking back on this third month with you a song I learned in camp came into my head "...second verse same as the first, a little bit louder and a whole lot worse!". While I wouldn't say it's been worse, it certainly has been louder. You have a set of lungs on you kid - something the neighbors keep reminding me of every time we bump into them outside. Yeah, thanks, I know. I have front row seats to the cacophony of noises that come out of your pretty little mouth. For the rest of my life. In fact the other night we had to change you after you'd fallen asleep in my arms downstairs before putting you to bed. You hate it when we have to wake you up. We hate it too. But this time, you really hated it. It was the first time we heard you yell in anger. You've cried and screamed in frustration of not getting what you wanted, but this scream was something else all together, you weren't just crying, you were yelling at us. You started out crying as usual, but then realized that your normal cry just did not convey the level of pure anger you felt at us, the changing table, the world, and so you pushed your vocal chords to a new level just to be sure we understood just how mad you really were. And I know we shouldn't have, but we laughed. You were so pissed off - this little tiny angry person. It's so great to see you express yourself. If you can get this angry at your parents when you're 3 months old we're going to have to make sure we live in an area that does not allow firearms when you're a teenager.
You are also turning into quite the flirt. Long gone are the days when you could only manage a sleepy smile at me with a belly full of milk. You smile at the strangers that tell you how beautiful you are, you smile at the other babies we hang out with, you even smile at your stuffed animals every once in awhile. But only when you're on speaking terms with them of course.
You rolled over for the first time two days ago. I've been struggling to get you to enjoy tummy time until I finally decided to flip you over on the changing table after I change your diaper. You'll happily raise your head and look around, then rock and roll back and forth while I sing and clap and make funny faces. The rocking and rolling got stronger and stronger until one night, boom, you were on your back, staring at the ceiling. You didn't even seem surprised, just happy at the change of view.
I'm trying my best to live in the moment with you. To squeeze you close to me when you burrow your head in my neck. To smell the sweet innocent scent of your breath, a mixture of warm milk and freshly cooked pasta. To revel in the smiles you give me on the changing table when I'm wiping your adorable pink little butt. I can't help thinking about what's to come though. I get teary-eyed just imagining being able to sing with you, to dance around the kitchen together, to create imaginary worlds in a sea of sofa pillows and blankets.
Throughout your life you're going to hear me tell you that I love you. One day you're even going to say it back to me. But you won't know how big, how strong that love is until you might have children of your own. You'll take my love for granted. And so you should. I want you to feel so comfortable in the knowledge that I love you that you don't even give it a second thought. Kid, you have made me happier than I ever knew was possible. Just try to remember this when you are 16 and screaming at your father and me. Screaming like a baby getting their ass cleaned when they'd rather be sleeping.
You have just managed to move up in the ranks. I do believe Mickey is getting worried.