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Three months of Biscuit!

2008-09-05 - 1:56 p.m.

I almost cannot believe that Biscuit has been on this earth for three months now. He has morphed from a squeaking newborn who howls for hours nightly, to an occasionally-howling but mostly-happy baby. At night he sleeps, waking only for a quick re-fueling every few hours. While he’s up for a several-hour stretch every evening, during the day he rarely stays awake for more than two hours at a time; something I don’t mind at all.

He spends a lot of time contentedly chewing his fists but, when he finds you making eye contact, will start smiling and cooing winningly in an effort to get you to pick him up. He also expends considerable effort trying to charm anything that contrasts with its surroundings and I love watching him grin and burble at the chandelier or the telephone jack. Even though he can’t grab for things with his hands yet, his upper lip sticks out, beak-like, at anything he’s interested in. When I pick him up now his arms circle my neck and sometimes he holds onto a fistful of shirt which gets damp as he slurps his fingers.

He’s getting longer, and as his energy is being used for growth his 12-pack and tiny man-boobs are being replaced by an appropriately baby-pot-bellied torso and he is not quite as mini-sumo-like as he was. His hair is still a downy brown fuzz on his wee melon (“soft as a horse’s nose” as my mom would say), and I love dressing him in orange to better contrast with his eyes - still the grey of an impending thunderstorm.

He doesn’t seem too hot on “tummy time” but I think he likes standing up - I cannot explain exactly why I think this, because he doesn’t often smile while he’s propped on his little tree-trunk legs, but he looks… I don’t know… interested when he’s in that vantage point; he kind of perks up and suddenly has a neck as he cranes upwards a little. I suspect he’ll like jolly jumpers and exersaucers when he’s old enough for them.

I love this age, when they’re still little fragrant bundles with arms and legs waving like pyjama-clad tentacles when they’re on their backs, and they fall asleep on your chest like big warm cuddly treefrogs tucked under your chin. When you scoop them up while they’re still sleeping they crane their heads back at a 90 degree angle – making their already-sleep-chubby faces look even rounder because it accentuates their double-chins – and stretch their little arms, but their chunky legs cross at the ankles like little genies. When they’re only lightly disturbed in their sleep their arms wave in surprisingly graceful tai chi moves. Yet, they’re big enough that their personalities have started emerging, they beam sunny, unexpected smiles at you that melt your heart, and when they get hungry it’s not an immediate end of the world because they can now anticipate that fulfilment of their needs is imminent when they see you assuming the nursing position.

Even though I’ve accepted that Biscuit will be our last baby, oh how it breaks my heart to put away the clothes he’s already growing out of and know I won’t have another little one wearing them again and going through this delightful stage. Biscuit, I’m savouring your baby-hood as much as I can.

My little man.

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