Lately, Alec has been earning the nickname Incontinent Lad. I know, all babies deserve that name, but they're not all quite so... aggressive about it. Incontinence isn't supposed to be an extreme sport, but try telling that to our baby.
Ironically, K, with her horrible painful reflux, didn't produce a fraction of the spitup her brother favors us with every day. But given the choice between spitup with no pain and pain with no spitup, the former is the clear winner. Alec is a much happier baby than his sister was at this age.
Slowly but surely he's uncurling out of the larval stage from a sleepy tiny package into a roly poly baby who coos and smiles and looks with fascination at the world. We brought the swing out this weekend to great success, as he sits back and engages the dangling giraffe in deep conversations on the world economic situation and last night's episode of Monk. Meanwhile, as much as we love his cuddliness, we sat back and enjoyed being able to put him down for half an hour, something that has rarely happened since he was about a week old. He's generally quite a happy baby and a very good sleeper - as long as he's being held. He hates his carseat with a passion because he sees no reason to be in its cold sterile clutches when he could be next to a nice warm body instead.
The tiny baby days go so quickly, it makes it hard not to think about having two or three more. Unfortunately, babies eventually turn into children who need to be sent to college, so we'll have to enjoy these days sprinting by as much as we can.
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