Two and a half weeks ago you turned four months old. This means that as of today, we’ve managed to keep you alive for 141 days. To say that time has flown by is an understatement, but SON, it was like I took a long blink….you know, that kind of blink you convince yourself is okay to take during English class and then you have what feels like a grand mal seizure when you open your eyes back up again…and it was like when I opened up my eyes instead of learning about dangling modifiers I was holding a giant baby in my lap and his name was Semisi and he was smiling his ass off at me and then your dad walked in and was all, “that huge kid is ours” then WHOA here we are staring at a 4 month old.
Well, okay, four and a half months now, Mr. Countie McCount. I’m late getting this letter to you late because for the past two and a half weeks I’ve been catching up on Downton Abbey and Pinning things. Beyond that, we spend any additional free time we have attempting to smoosh your head into a more perfectly spherical shape.
Actually, I’m not kidding about my obsession with Downton Abbey. For some reason I’ve become obsessed with ensuring that Mary Crawley marries her cousin Mathew. DON’T ASK.
And actually I’m not kidding about your head either. We really are trying to re-smoosh your head. It seems weird now but you’ll thank us later when you
Aside from your totally malleable head, you continue to amaze us on a daily basis. You smile constantly. We’ll be like, “Semisi did you poop?”
“Semisi, would you like to eat?”
“Sleep?” SMILE. “Go for a walk?”
“Semisi, would you please smile for this stranger?”
DOUBLE TRIPLE QUADRUPLE FROWNY FACE.
|This is your frown.|
All kidding aside, you’ll typically smile at anyone, which has resulted in your father carrying you anytime we’re out in public. He likes that type of attention – attention that isn’t on him but is accredited to him. Of course if I carried you I would complain about how heavy you are after 37 seconds and besides no one would think you’re my kid anyway. LOSE LOSE. He really likes carrying you when you're wearing what I like to refer to as your TONGAN PRIDE gear:
|Team Tonga for life.|
(Thanks for the hat, GM1!)
Just the other day, as a matter of fact, we ran in to the doctor who was on call and was tasked with the pleasure of delivering you on the night you were born. Your father, in an unusual lapse of forgetfulness, couldn’t remember her name and just decided - quite uncharacteristically, might I add – to turn all extrovert on me and awkwardly shout “You delivered our baby!” just as she was reaching for frozen broccoli in aisle 9. The next 20 second resulted in an equally awkward exchange as we tried to talk, and not talk, about the only experience we’d had with one another. Casual conversation is actually quite difficult when the only thing you have in common with someone is an unfaltering appreciation of the capabilities of one’s vagina.
You do other normal baby things with extra super duper skill. You can turn over both ways and actually totally tolerate tummy time for extended periods of time now. You can sit up with some help, and you regularly pound about 35 ounces a day. That’s a shit-ton of food, FYI. I would know because I spend half my day locked up in my office with the shades closed, answering email while extracting it from my body. (Yet ANOTHER thing I’ll enjoy telling you about for the first time. IN THE PRESENCE OF YOUR GIRLFRIEND.)
Another thing you do is look really effing cute in orange:
|You, looking effing cute in orange. |
(Thanks for the hat, GM2!)
We, on the other hand, are not extraordinary parents. We’re still figuring this shit out, and we appreciate your patience with us as we continue to stumble through. But trust me when I say that we’re really gonna shine when you’re old enough to have beers with us.
What has been extraordinary is what you continue to teach us each day. (And I thought kids were kinda dumb!) Like that time you were like, “Mom, this is what happens when you take my diaper off before I’m done pooping.” And other things too. Mostly you’ve given me a great sense of appreciation for life in general. It’s like I get to start from scratch with you. I’m excited to be all, “Semisi, this thing is called the third season of Tru Blood a book, and that thing is a”…and OMG I GET TO TELL YOU WHAT A FART IS. Paul, I got dibs on that one!
Anyway, what I’m trying to say is life looks pretty cool the second time around. Thank you for that.