C. is giggling now. It’s the cutest little noise ever. It’s a series of little breathless squeaks.
He’s also sucking on his fingers. He found those last week — one, two, sometimes three fingers, suck suck suck. And he’s grabbing for the rings in the tiny gym and twirling the toys on his Baby Bjorn chair.
When we go for walks, he looks up and all around. He’s taking it all in — especially the low-hanging branches on trees with pink flowers. I wonder if he can see the vast blue sky.
But what gives me the most joy these days (besides his huge ruddy kissable cheeks) is when he plays with his vocal cords, trying out new guttural noises or squeals, some of which make me jump. All of which make me laugh. And when I belt out my loud boisterous laugh, C. shyly puts his hand near his mouth and he smiles big. He knows he’s funny.