The Little Things

Z’s life, which, I suspect, is similar in this regard to almost all American babies, is very well documented.  We have thousands of pictures and videos from his first year.  Any time anyone wants to see what he looked like at 1 month, 2 month, 3 months, there will be plenty of options to look at.  When his eyes turned from blue to gray to brown.  When he lost his initial hair.  When he grew a baby mullet.  When his first tooth started to come in.  There are plenty of videos of big milestones as well.  His ability to roll over.  His skill in sitting up on his own.  His fast crawl.  His perilous early steps.

What won’t be documented and what I hope to never forget are the little things he’s done as a baby, the everyday moments that makes him and being his father so special.

The way he’ll raise his head and lift his eyebrows to look at something interesting over my shoulder when I’m holding him.

The way he’ll arch his back and smile up at me as we lie on the floor.

The way he’ll take a few steps and then dive into a hug with his large stuffed monkey.

The way he’ll make a fake laugh sound when something is funny but not hilarious.

The way he’ll really laugh, deep and hearty, at the correct moment when someone tells a joke and before others start laughing.

The way he’ll lean forward in the bath and pretend to drink the bath water.  And sometimes really drink it.

The way he’ll get so excited to see a dog that he’ll pant and cry if he’s brought too close to the dog but cry and whine if he’s moved farther away from it.

The way he’ll lie on my stomach as I read a book to him, as content as can be, only to pop up and crawl away three seconds later.

The way he opens his mouth as wide as possible to make sure it gets around his straw when he drinks water.

As difficult as it can be to be a parent of an infant, these are memories I hope never fade away, the little things that don’t get captured by the many photos and videos we take.

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