Dang. My baby isn't a baby anymore. We just celebrated his half-birthday, and here are the facts:
He's been sitting up for almost 3 weeks now, and he's probably not far off from crawling. He's almost 22 pounds and 28 inches tall (96th and 92nd percentile). He thinks everything is hilarious. He sneezes and laughs. He takes a bite of food and laughs. He looks at Birdie and laughs. He's in love with his big sister, and I'd bet money that "Birdie" is going to be his first word. Speaking of big sis, we've started letting him cry some at night because he's still waking every two hours--yes, if you're keeping a non-sleep journal of my life, I haven't had longer than a 4-hour stretch of sleep in 2 and a half years. Anyway, he was crying the other night and Birdie was still awake. She looked at me and said, "Momma, Winston crying." I told her I knew and explained that he was ok and was just having a hard time going to sleep. She wasn't satisfied. Two seconds later, "Daddy, Winston crying." He said the same thing, so she goes, "He just need a paci. I go do it myself" and headed towards the nursery. These kiddos just melt my little heart.