Five Months

Our jolly man was five months old on Saturday -- didn't I just write a four-month post?  All of the grandparents visited in the last two weeks, and it was a good thing too.  If they'd waited any longer, Henry would have surpassed at least two of them in height.

Honestly, five months doesn't feel so different from four months.  He's progressing steadily along all of the requisite baby milestones, such as using his hands more deliberately, almost sitting up, looking for dropped objects, teething, and so on.  But he basically seems like the same little guy, and I'm thankful for that, now that I spend so much less time with him.  I'm still adjusting to the feeling that I'm perpetually missing out on something he's doing or some way that he's changing.  But at least I haven't come home to find a totally different baby at the end of each workweek.

Our evenings and weekends together have been really wonderful this month.  Henry is playful, mellow, and snuggly in equal measures.  When he's fun, he's really, really fun.  Every day we discover something newly hilarious -- today, it was me leaning over him and shaking my hair.  Karl and I agree that baby laughs are the best thing ever.  A perfectly average day (or even a slightly fussy day) can end up fantastic if we get some good belly laughs in the evening before bedtime. 

Baby laughs: now featuring razor-sharp teeth.

Wow, that guy is good-looking!

He can also be a sweet, mellow companion, happy to just hang out and watch us work in the yard, watch a little basketball with dad, or chill out in the stroller on a long walk.  

And the best part of my day is nursing him before bed at night, when he's warm and sweet-smelling from the bath, his cheeks are rosy and his skin looks perfect and satiny in the lamplight, and he snuggles up against me like when he was brand new.

 

Five months is pretty darn good.