What is this?

This is a very long, open and public letter to Baby Bean McGyver, the little boy curently residing in my belly, to be evicted in December, likely during Christmas dinner.

I promise to back everything up in print to read to him during the sleepless nights. Oh, and in case you are wondering, the title did come from a horribly catchy Gwen Stefani song that is always stuck in my jukebox brain.

I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing. Thanks for stopping by!

Sunday, 18 May 2014

A tiny bottle

Hey baby!

I know, it's been a while...in my defence, you're quite the handful! I can now do almost everything one-handed, except type long blog posts. For the record, you are 64cm long and 6.5kg heavy. You've lost all of you newborn clothes and a lot more this week.

What a lovely handful you are.We are all in love with you deeply and madly, my dear.
At almost five months, you laugh at everything and everybody, as if the world exists only to entertain you.
You and I spend our afternoons reading silly cardboard books, playing with colorful toys, walking about the house as if it were a mansion. We have a nice routine going on and you have the precision of a swiss clock.

You started solids a few days ago, because we just couldn't handle anymore of the ogling and staring and wanting to grab everything we were eating! You are definitely your parent's son, a food lover! So far you had banana - big hit, apple, pear, potato and carrot. And a bit of daddy's frozen yoghurt. We are doing this slowly but surely even though daddy wants to give you everything from ice-cream to bacon, right now if possible. It's so much fun to see your face when you try something new, I'm tempted to do it all day long. If only we were in Brazil where there are endless possibilities of fruits and vege. Here, I'm afraid you'll turn into a pumpkin soon enough.

Today you sat up by yourself for the first time. Un-assisted, for about a minute. I ran for the camera, but was too slow. It was glorious, up until second 61 when you flopped your big head forward and landed on the floor...crying ensued, but rightfully so, as you're on the floor so the knock must've hurt.

Also on big news: we went to Wellington last week for two nights and you were the perfect gentleman the whole time, including holte sleep and both plane rides. You slept from airport to airport, return.

And you are officially registered at the Embassy, with a brazilian certificate of birth. Sorry about that.

I'm writing today because we had a great day, so full of laughter that I (almost) fell bad for putting you to bed.

If only I could bottle your laughter, the giggles, the gummy wide open laughter, the gurgling deep joy, the dimply smile and the one eyebrow raise, the clutching hands that can barely contain your excitement, If I could bottle all that I'm sure that the world would be so much better. I'd carry it around and release it all over the globe and see everybody light up like I do when you laugh.

Thank you for your laughter, son. Thank you for you.