Riley has a habit of putting a fist to his chin and assuming the pose of The Thinker.
By the time Riley was 3 days old, he was holding his head up with control. By the time he was a week old, he’d figured out that he could hold on to things. You should see him, with his hand on his bottle. I swear, he believes he’s holding it up!
Up until he was five weeks old, he was really good about letting Rob and I get at least one long stretch of sleep per day. For some reason, he’s decided to change his policy.
Riley’s been taking to the boob more often these days, and sometimes as I’m about to breastfeed, I swear he looks at my oncoming breast and shits his pants. Yes, honey, they’re bigger than your head. But I’ll be careful not to suffocate you.
For the first month or so, everyone who saw Riley said that he’s the spitting image of Rob. Now there are more people who are saying he looks like me. (I’ll show evidence in another post.)
MY FAMILY. God, it feels good to say that.