My precious little boy turned 4 months yesterday.
I say this every month, but it is always true. I can't believe how quickly he is growing and changing and becoming his own little person. He screams and wails and laughs and babbles to me, his toys, his daddy, anyone and anything that will listen to him. He has an obsession with ceiling fans and light fixtures. He is constantly distracted by them when I am trying to feed him. He sometimes drives me crazy when he cries for no real reason at all except that he wants my undivided attention, usually when I am trying to do housework. But when I stop what I am doing pull him into my arms, he rewards me with one of his radiant joyful smiles, one hand in his mouth and the other clutching tightly to my shirt or arm or hair. Oliver helps me remember that joy can be found in little things: rocking a sleeping baby in my arms; singing and dancing around the kitchen looking completely foolish just to hear Oliver's laughter; watching Oliver play with his cousins on the floor at Grammy's house.
My heart swells with gratitude for this precious little boy I have been blessed with.