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Happy to be past the brand-new-baby stage

Categories: Newborns, Babies

I will state for the record that while I loved my boy Dylan from the moment he was born and even many months beforehand when he was only a tiny tadpole-like clump of cells that made me fart both vigorously and relentlessly, I love him in a different sort of way now that he's no longer a crumpled-up, mostly-unresponsive-except-for-the-fussing newborn. It's a much more rewarding sense of love, a feeling that pours out of me when he looks at my face and does that ridiculous leg-marching business, waving his arms wildly and grinning, shaping his mouth into a tiny circle to coo at me.

I love to look at brand-new babies and I suppose there will be a day when I will wish like anything that my giant gallumping boys were miniscule newborns again, but while I'm in the here and now I will just say this: I am so happy that Dylan is 9 weeks old, and not 9 days old. I don't mean to hurry away every precious moment or anything, but oh man were those first weeks hard. I loved him then and I love him now, but I think I will go ahead and admit that I love him more now. More every day.

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