I can't count how many times a day I run my hands over this messy, fluffy hair. I'm not trying to smooth it, if anything I like to rumple it more. I love it.

"Let it go.." You sing a lot, and love to give me "shows." Although here you're singing Let it Go, one of your favorite made-up lyrics lately is "You know me. I know you. You know me and I know you." Not sure why that's on repeat in your little head, but it is, apparently.

I was so hoping for a mild winter, after how hard last year was. But as early as this is starting, that's not looking good.

Where else would anyone want to be?

We're all trying, baby boy, we really are. You are mostly doing this, though. We love you anyway.

This picture is definitely nothing special. The fact that it exists at all is a testament to my persistence (stubbornness...). You have been sick, baby boy, fevers the last couple of nights and a LOT of crying and fussing. You are not a happy boy right now, and we cannot figure out why. So today you were here, crawling around under the table while we waited for results of tests which showed us nothing. A virus, they guess. Hopefully not a long-lasting one...Mama's tired, and you're miserable.

Will you be a reader like the rest of us, baby boy? So far you don't really sit still for books, like your sisters would. You are on the move, and books better be one page long, or they're just too slow for you.