You have 10 little fingers and, I presume hidden under the swaddle, 10 little toes, and I like you very much.
You stretch your arms a lot while you’re in my arms. You’re in my arms, your dad’s manning the grilled onions, your mom’s opening a bag of chips and my wife is asking what she can do.
Hi, Simon. You’re two weeks old. Your head is squishy and you always look pissed off. You stretch and wave your arms like you’re cheering an invisible football team. And I’m going to know you for the rest of my life. » Read the rest of this entry «
