It’s the smell of vomit on my shirt that wakes me up, or maybe its just the first thing that I notice. Curdled milk and stomach acid combine to make a very unique smell which seems to follow me everywhere I go. The source of the bodily fluids is still fast asleep; curled up on his side, with his chubby cheeks and rosebud lips making him look like a cherub resting from fluttering about on a pair of tiny wings.
In reality, the baby is tired from chasing the cat, pulling all of the pots and pans out of the cabinets, standing up against the toilet and dismantling the nightlight from the wall which was somehow missed in the last round of babyproofing. He continues to show us what he needs and wants, what he likes and dislikes, and how to be better parents.
One of his primary interests is in ending all cell phone usage in his presence. He reminds us to be present or else he will put a handful of ants in his mouth. He keeps us accountable through inquisitive eyes that see and question all. He keeps us selfless as we prepare him for the world and a future independent of diapers, rattles and pureed food but never free from mommy hugs, I hope.