You are two months old today. The changes in our family have been innumerable. Simply too many to count.
I would like to type more, but as is typical these days, at this type of night, you are fussy and your sister hasn’t napped and she’s a hot mess. Your Dad is trying to keep the peace so I can pound this entry out, but that’s not working and my shoulder is soaked with Littlebit’s tears and you’ve screamed yourself to a state of bright fuchsia.
But you are wonderful and perfect on your own, sweet, bright-eyed way. I’m cherishing these days. You are my last. I take your crying, pooping and cluster nursing in stride. It will never come my way again.