I can’t. Elie e that already, somehow, you are 4 months old. I can’t believe that already, you are no longer a baby baby, but sit up and look around, reach out for things you want, smile with sheer joy when I sing ‘Miss Polly Had A Dolly’ and have worked out how to turn your cot mobile off.
You are small for your age, and people are forever stopping me to tell me how tiny you are. You love people, you beam at them from your pushchair and coo and chuckle at old ladies whenever we are out and about.
I love the way your thighs are becoming delightfully squishy as you slowly put on weight, and the way you will happily lay on your tummy looking around you, for ages. Your little starfish hands, warm and soft. I love when you gently fall asleep sometimes at the end of a feed, and I love even more that life at the moment lets me sit and hold you until you wake up.
Sometimes you look so solemn, and sometimes you look so thunderously disapproving it is hard not to laugh at you. But most often you are smiling. I love how utterly unselfconscious you are, and I hope we can preserve that for as long as possible.
You have been to two weddings and a wedding reception, the races at Ascot, two beer festivals, a food festival, and you take it all in your stride. You look so much like your daddy it really is astounding.
Four months doesn’t sound like such a long time, and I can’t believe how much you have changed and developed in that short time. And yet four months also feels like a lifetime, it is hard to remember a time before you were here. I still can’t believe how lucky we are to have you. I am watching you sleep while I type this. Sometimes, when you are crying, if I sing to you, you stop. Or if I pick you up, you snuggle into me and stop. And that is the most wonderful feeling in the world. We are so blessed.