Three Months

Dear Michael,

It has been a busy month for you. Not only have you figured out how to get your fist to your mouth (and any object clasped within) nine times out of ten without a problem, but you also got to meet about a hundred of your relatives.


The last few days, I have been in awe of your heaviness. You started this month long and lean, and you are still quite lean and also long, but both your dad and I can see you filling out. Your face is fuller, and your leg wrinkles are deepening. You are also not so easy to hang onto with one arm for very long.


You still haven’t burst out in those baby giggles we’ve been waiting to hear, but you have laughed a little. We try so much to get you to laugh full from your belly, but you’re just not there yet. You are definitely amused by a lot of what we do and say to you, but yours is a quiet amusement. A slight chortle, a big smile that still lights up your whole face. We are total idiots for that smile.


You are fascinated by patterns and our impressions of Beaker from the Muppets. You enjoy playing with a few of your toys and can actually entertain yourself for awhile if someone needs a moment for herself. You have even started to get the hang of the pacifier, you know, like actually sucking on the business end until it calms and comforts you instead of chewing on it, smiling around it or launching it into Dad’s bowl of Cheerios.

go packers

This month you took your first road trip. It was pretty good. Driving with you from our home in Virginia to see your grandparents and others in Wisconsin only added about three or four hours to our old, two-man “best time.” And you did so well. You slept a lot on the day we drove up, and you even slept well for us after we arrived. I know it’s not easy being shuffled around so much, and I’m sure we could have come up with a smoother way to do things on our end, but you handled all the changes of scenery and every new face like a champ, and you finally got to feel a little bit of the love we’ve been telling you about since before you were born.


You had your very first Christmas, not only on December 25th, but on January 16th and January 18th, too. You got lots of great stuff–new outfits, tree ornaments, a book or two, some toys, even a couple of savings bonds–but more than that you got to spend nine entire days in the arms of someone who loves you. You got a thousand smiles and we got almost as many photographs. You got to take naps with your grandparents, cheer on and be frustrated by the Green Bay Packers, and meet and charm your cousins, aunts, uncles and everyone else. And even though you might not remember all these people the next time you see them, I hope that you understand on some level how much they love you. I’ll try my best to help you with that.


When we left Milwaukee, you cried, as I’m sure your grandmothers did. And then you slept. We got home today, and you only got really upset a couple of times. My arm fell asleep twice while trying to keep you entertained from the drivers’ seat or retrieve your dropped pacifier, and you seem out of sorts tonight probably due to the disruption, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I wish we could do it more often.


Everyone agrees that you are awesome and brilliant and happy and all the other things that three-month-olds should be. Of course, I’ve known this all along, but it’s good to have a few other impartial (ha) people agree with me. We like hanging out with you, kid, and I get the impression that you might feel the same way.



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