He’s not even a month old and he smiles. He coos. He mimics me when I stick out my tongue and he watches my face. He has been able to find his own hand to suck. His neck is strong and he stays awake and calm for awhile now without fussing or looking for food. Obviously, this means my son is a genius.
All I know is that his eyes are gorgeous, that his cries usually mean he needs me, and his little hands are so soft I don’t mind when the fingernails occasionally jab into my boob while he eats.
I don’t care how smart he is. I don’t care if he wants to play basketball or football or piano or none of the above. I love to watch his eyes watch the world. I love to fall asleep with his tiny warm body curled up on my chest. I love that everything is possible for him right now. He laughs in his sleep. He recognizes my voice, James’ voice and both grandmas, even the one he’s only heard over the phone. Genius or not, we are having a great time getting to know each other.