I wanted to see his face.
100% adorable even covered in his own drool. I try and wipe it up, but he's a faucet. I waved the white flag and just learned to love it. Plus, he's less likely to meet other cute girl babies covered in drool. I don't plan on telling him guys that drool generally don't get a second date. Maybe when he's 35 and I think about letting him move out ;)
I wanted to see him grow. On that note, I think we finally turned the corner on this tummy time biz!!
Hooray! My son will be able to support his own head when I finally let him go on a date, (when he's 35).
I almost saw the light bulb go off in his head. So this is what these meat sleeves hanging at my sides are for!
I wanted to see him turn into a big boy...kind of.
Lock up your small house pets...Henry is about to try cereal soon. Knowing him, he'll call bullshit, and just skip straight to the steak and potatoes.
So I suppose never getting to sleep as long as I want is worth it. Most of the time.
Like today. Henry must have sensed I was dangerously close to the line of crazy-eyed, nervous breakdown, stay-at-home mom mode. So he napped.
I napped as well. Was there really ever a doubt?
I am rather concerned with the frequency with which I have dreams that involve my teeth falling out. According to google this could indicate that I am:
A. Fearing death. (Naturally. Work my job a few days and you'll fear it too!)
B. Feeling powerless. (Umm. Maybe?)
C. Fearing change. (Generally, I think change is a good thing. But who am I to argue with google?)
D. Fear of failure or embarrassment. (Double check that box.)
Here's the kicker...it can also be a subconscious warning that I am revealing too much information; the lost teeth symbolizing the secrets that come spewing out of my head and into this blog.
So apparently, sharing my deep (ha ha ha) inner thoughts on parenting and other general nonsense is giving me a complex.
Oh well, just one more thing to add to the list.