And now the more picture-y, exciting stuff. Keaton, that little punk, is three months old now. And just as sweet as last month.
You can see it a bit on the onesie--but three months apparently marks the beginning of THE DROOL. Which is a baby stage I'd be happy to skip. I can do without my shoulders always being wet and neck rashes and bibs and wet onesies. But I'll take a little (or a pint) of drool in exchange for smiles.
Keaton's starting to get a bit of a neck--when you compare these with the last months pictures it's remarkable how much better he holds his head up. Although it's kind of hard to tell with all the chin chub.
No rolling over yet--which probably would have alarmed me with the first two, but I'm happy with my stationary guy. Keaton does not like the car--making our trip to and from Florida something I had a lot of anxiety about. I spent most of the drive next to him holding a pacifier in which is about all that made him happy. He did take a bottle like a champ though!
His sleep has been a little less than awesome lately--he used to make it about 5 hours in the beginning of the night, and has been waking up every 2.5-3 hours to eat. Which makes mama sad. I'm guessing it's something that will pass soon and he'll be back to sleeping a little more and fussing a little less.
We just can't get over how sweet this guy is. He loves being in the Moby (at least that's what he told me) and is generally just content with life. He has started enjoying his little playmat and can sometimes catch the toys. I'm grateful that he'll lay there and play for sometimes a very long time while I chase other brothers. He's pretty much happy all the time--unless of course we make him go in the car. Please stop hating the car, guy.