Sweet sweet baby morning

Last night was one of the good nights. After feeding Luke two jars of baby food (covering meat, veggies, AND fruit!), I actually made a healthy dinner for my husband and I while Luke sat at the table with us eating veggie puffs. It was a picture of suburban familial bliss, straight out of 1950's TV.

Luke and I walked to the park to give M a chance to grade some papers for the class he's TAing and there we met a man and his son, and we chatted as we pushed the boys on the swings. Luke watched the almost three year old in awe.

On the walk home, Luke spit up on my hand, jeans, and down to my toes, but hey, he had been on the swing for fifteen minutes!

The rest of the evening Luke was a happy camper. And this morning? I was a happy camper, because I woke up at 5:30 and realized that Luke was still asleep. I could enjoy laying bed for a few minutes. I had had uninterrupted sleep for over seven hours.

Luke woke at 5:45 in a rather bad mood, so I hurried him downstairs for the morning bottle. As he and I sat on the couch, he did one of those things that I specifically want to remember. As he's eating, he holds the bottle with one hand and uses the other to find my hand and he strokes my fingernails with his fingers. It's an absentminded kind of thing, and I love when he does it.