Two Weeks

I often heard, before his arrival, that boy babies are different. I wasn't sure how much stock I should put into the idea. It turns out to be totally true.

For example, boy babies can sneak a whiz into their own armpits while you are fumbling for tiny socks or a wipe or something. I can safely say that Wendy never did that.

So far, however, he is just as serious, contemplative, and beautiful as she was. Two weeks old, and he is beginning to get some baby fat around the edges. (I'm doing my best to give him back the bits that he left hanging around.)

Me? Still hibernating. Like a bear. A pj-wearing, chocolate-eating bear.