Might as well blog while I'm on hold with the IRS.
Giving Pop a little coy treatment.
"You may kiss my hand."
Getting ready to feed.
(And getting a little pre-cradle-crap (or "crib-head," as we've taken to calling it) on the forehead.)
"Oh yes, I would like to eat now; thank you!"
Digesting.
In lieu of sending a "My Little Tiger, Class of 2035" to the Princeton alumni magazine, I'll just post this cute butt picture here. We'll start our Founding Fathers flash cards in month 2.
We spend a lot of time in this chair. I recommend "My Brest Friend" as a nursing pillow over the Boppy. It clips together so, with a single arm support, you can walk around with your baby on a shelf
Megan spied Elliott puttying a wall. Or painting. I can't tell which.
Practicing our milk-drunk faces.
She's better.
Resemblance?
Good night!
Tomorrow: photos from the hospital that we just got in the mail.
xoxo, liz
1 comment:
The "digesting" photo is KILLING ME. It's all I can do to not jump through cyberspace and squeeze her. Counting the days until we can plop our babies on the couch next to each other. CAN YOU PLEASE MOVE HERE NOW? Also, you guys are ridiculously good looking in the hospital photos. Just stunning. We'd like to marry all three of you.
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