One day Thomas is going to read this blog, and he’s going to notice that there are maybe seven times more photos of the first three months of David’s life, and at least three times more from Mary Virginia’s. And if he’s anything his father, Thomas will have all the relevant information compiled in a handy spreadsheet that I won’t be able to decipher.
He’ll say all that and I’ll respond with an impassioned, dramatic speech about how he might not have blog posts, but he does have siblings, and isn’t that so much better?
And then I’ll show him this post, with pictures of him wearing a jumper that matches his blanket, and I’ll tell him that I took these pictures on one of those long days with short naps when I was recovering from a midsummer stomach bug and had a thousand things to do. But baby Thomas wanted to stretch and play, so that’s what we did.
(And then I took photos because apparently reptile is a good look for him.)
And then if he still isn’t happy, I’ll prop my hand on my hip and tell him the truth — that maybe if he hadn’t always stopped smiling the instant I pulled out the camera, then PERHAPS there’d be a few more pictures of him.
Ever think of that, kid?
Crocodile blanket, a sweet handmade gift from my dear friend Candace. Crocodile jumper a twice-over hand-me-down from Britton by way of Tori.