Feelings of a maternal sort
I was over at my sister's earlier this afternoon and had about half an
hour of Evan on my shoulder. He'd just been fed and was wearing that
sated, dazed "I can barely keep my eyes open and I don't know who you
are anyway" sort of newborn expression. Still, he cuddled right in and
sacked out against me so thoroughly that I really hated to leave.
There's just something so cozy and contented and right about having a baby asleep in your arms.
Of course, I have yet to be christened by baby vomit, but it's only a matter of time. His older sister was a projectile vomiter. Evan seems to be mastering the "milk through the nose" method of throwing up, which - in comparison - I find kind of (unnaturally, alarmingly) cute.
And he's not even my kid.
Of course, I have yet to be christened by baby vomit, but it's only a matter of time. His older sister was a projectile vomiter. Evan seems to be mastering the "milk through the nose" method of throwing up, which - in comparison - I find kind of (unnaturally, alarmingly) cute.
And he's not even my kid.