Sleep Deprived Musings

Forrest found his hands today. He hasn't quite figured out the idea of sucking on a finger, but he was fascinated by his balled up fists-- his little tongue flicking all around them like a crazed lizard. Lately, he's been desperately trying to gauge his eyes out, so I have to say I'm thankful for the lizard-like licking.  

He's starting to get more curious about the world around him. Granted it's a world that is about a 5 ft bubble, but it is growing. He absolutely loves his floor mobile - for about 15 minutes, then he's totally over it. Ceiling fans could be his favorite . . . well, besides my boobs. Those he goes bat crazy for.  He acts like a crack addict gone too long without a fix. And then sometimes in the middle, if he loses the latch - which is quite often, he starts this panicky, desperate squealing. I think in another life he may have experienced starvation.

Bo came up with the name Forrest, and though we hadn't agreed on any of the other 47 million names proposed, this one sounded right.  (I had to vehemently shoot down Wyatt White).  We agreed though, that if Forrest ended up being special needs at all, we'd have to change his name.  Little guy can own any Gump jokes otherwise. Although his vast array of tongue tricks made me wonder for a while, I think we're in the clear.

... Later ...
Just did what seems like my 15th load of laundry today. I've come to a startling revelation. Forrest has been wearing loads and loads of the most adorable little outfits. Just looking at the clothes sends my heart pitter patter and he's not even in them.  Bo has quite the array of very hip, good looking threads. My clothes, however, consist entirely of pajama bottoms, nursing tops, leggings and work out clothes - in which I very rarely do any actual working out.