Happy Kid

If only he was always this happy...
Yesterday was a nasty spit-up day. I take the blame for it, though. I didn't get up when my alarm went off at eight in the morning. He ended up getting his medicine a full hour late, and it clearly messed with his system. Even after he went to bed last night, he got sick again. In case you were wondering, stage 3 Gerber's lasagna, the one with all the chunks, looks particularly gross the second time around. I'm also sure nobody's surprised I'm doing laundry today of all days. I felt bad letting him continue to sleep on that icky sheet last night after I found the mess around midnight. If he hadn't been sleeping so soundly already, I think I would have woken him up right away just to get him a fresh sheet.
Now that he's figured out the pincer grasp, he uses that index finger for everything. His favorite thing to do with it is pick at or poke at stuff. In this picture, he's poking at a tiny crumb. He'll push it around and around until he gets tired of it. He particularly likes poking when he's finished nursing. He finds a small area of a different color than the one around it (yup, it's what you think) and poke at it. It makes me somewhat uncomfortable, but he's clearly just playing. After poking, he always looks up at me and grins and giggles. He thinks it's a fantastic game.

In this picture, Patrick was chilling on Saturday afternoon, having a snack and watching football. I think he remembers football from last year, as crazy as it sounds. Young as he was, he was still incredibly intent on watching when it was on TV. As soon as he heard it this year, he focused right in on it as though it sparked some almost-forgotten memory. Either that or he somehow inherited a love of football. Matt doesn't particularly like it (although he'll watch to humor me), and I enjoy it up to a point, so where Patrick found an instinctual love for it, we'll never know.