Last Friday you turned three months old, which means that, as of today, we’ve managed to keep you alive for 99 days. Tomorrow you will be 100 days old. Hopefully some day you will be 100 years old.
He was sad to drop you off because basically you’re the nicest baby we’ve ever been around. No kidding. I mean, I get it, you’re OUR kid. But you also happen to be freaking awesome in all the other “technical” awesome baby ways too. You hardly cry, you sleep 8 hours a night now (and when you don’t, your dad feeds you…HOLLER!), and you even let us eat hot meals because you like laying on this thing that has other things hanging from it. You grab those things and squeal quite loudly. Shit, if that type of stuff continues to entertain you we’ll just give you our unused key chains for Christmas. Funsies!
Anyway, we’ve learned other stuff from you too, which is weird because you’re only 99 days old. Like, wtf could you possibly teach us, right? A lot actually. Like, for example, I don’t actually miss going out on the town and drinking and singing Pat Benatar at karaoke as much as I thought I would because I’d actually rather stay home and clean up you stinky poo. Explain that one to me.
Maybe when you start having man poops that will change.
Listen, the point I’m trying to make here is that I’ve discovered that before you came along I was basically a selfish person, and I was totally comfortable staying that way. You make me a little less so.
So...thank you for that. And thank you for sleeping 8 hours again last night. That too.