As you may know, we celebrated your one-month birthday two weeks ago. We made you a cupcake with the fraction “1/12th” on it. Then we ate it. You didn’t get to have any. I’m sorry, but those are the rules. Forever. Maybe when you’re older—15, say—we’ll give you a little taste of frosting. Probably not. You see, your mother and I really like cakes, cupcakes, pie, and most other pastries. (Shepherd’s Pie is false advertising, NEVER TRY IT.)
Anyway, when you’re 18, you can go buy your own cake. Of course, I’m kidding, you’ll get to have some soon enough. Next month, we’re going to make you another cupcake, but with the simplified fraction 1/6 on it. We’re going to continue in this fashion until your actual birthday; we think it’ll make for some fun pictures. OK, OK, it’s just an excuse for us to eat a lot of cupcakes, accidentally make a “mistake” when writing with the frosting, eat the defective cupcake, and start over on another unblemished one, whereby the process continues. (As of this writing, I weigh 798 pounds.)
We’re also excited to celebrate your Pi Day (3.14159265359 years after your birth). I should clarify. By “we,” I mean, “I”. Your mom thinks I’m a bit of a loon. Anyway, we’ll be celebrating it on Tuesday, September 8, 2015, so mark your calendar. Your future self might consider this too nerdy; however, given that you will be three and won’t have much to contribute to the issue, we’re making the call for you. (Plus, you only get one Pi day.)
In addition to your one-month birthday, you graced us with your first smile. As you may know, it’s pretty hard to tell when an infant is smiling at first, as babies make a funny face called a “gas smile.” I don’t know why they do this exactly, but it looks like the little one is smirking, sort of like if he or she were doing an impression of the Mona Lisa. (Come to think of it: This probably says more about the background of the painting than I care to know.)
Anyway, for a few weeks, every time you had the slightest facial expression your mother and I would immediately begin our newest infant-related game: Is it mirth or flatulence?
At first, it was all gas smiles, but then one day there was no question about it. You were grinning like we gave you a gondola full of gummy bears. (Trust me: that would be good.) Since then, smiling has been a daily occurrence, and I can usually get you to smile, though you like to make me work for them.
You especially like it when I make turkey-like noises. Since then, it has sounded like Thanksgiving at our household. Of course, you were only impressed by the standard turkey impression for so long, so I had to improvise. Now there’s the crying turkey, the laughing turkey, the turkey taking up yodeling. I’m working on the German turkey. (It is a turkey that yells a lot.)
In addition to smiling, you’re also growing. You’re now pushing 12 pounds (you’re probably over that, actually), and you sometimes down seven to eight ounces of breastmilk in a sitting. Then you belch like a biker.
In fact, you’ve grown so much that you no longer fit into the newborn clothes or the 0-3 month size. I don’t know if a Big and Tall-type clothing store for babies exists, but we’ll probably have to start looking.
Anyway, you’re currently dozing off next to me, (and snoring), and your mother and I are about to put you in your bassinet, so I’d better go.
Still can’t believe it’s been six weeks already.
Dad (and Mom)