He came out looking like this, and he pretty much stayed like that for twelve weeks. I ended up in tears too. He was impossible to get down, you'd have him asleep in your arms and the minute his body touched that crib (or Pack-n-Play, or bassinet) he'd start to cry again. He was the only one I couldn't successfully nurse, and I tried not to be upset and accept that every baby is different. The day he stopped crying was the day of his christening. My older sister had him asleep on her shoulder, and went to put him down. He slept for the rest of the afternoon and my family teased me by saying things like, "What are you talking about? This baby is sleeping like a rock!"
There is something about my Littlest One. His smile is infectious. His hugs are a gift, and he gives them unabashedly. His pre-school teacher recognized it too, and she once told me, "There is just something special about this boy, you just want to be near him.") He is so smart it's scary. He was reading as he entered kindergarten. I learned this one day, when while having lunch he asked me, "Mommy why does it say 'No beer' on the wipe board?" (It said 'no beer' because I was trying to lose weight, lol)
I know we are not supposed to have favorites, but I did bond differently with him. I don't know why. I am the third child, and my mother always seemed to have a different relationship with me as well. All I know is that I treasure all that is my baby: his humor, his sweetness, and light. He is six today.
Yesterday he was standing in the yard watching the older kids play, swinging and swaying his hips quite Elvis-like. I said:
"Look at you swinging those hips. That's a pretty sweet move, who taught you how to move like that?"
He paused a beat.
ROFL. Happy Birthday baby. This evening it's bowling and arcade games with 9 other six year-olds. Sweet!