We've been home for a few weeks now, six maybe? It's hard to tell because the days blend together between feeding times. We're in a rhythm of sorts, with the engine behind the schedule is on a circadian rhythm of like 5 or 6 hours instead of 24.
I wonder often what the little guy is thinking and wish he could tell me. Is he happy? Is he worried? Is he just plain curious about what the wide world is about? On the other hand, I love that he is so tiny and cuddly. At the library yestetday, people walked by and pointed to baby and whispered "Look, he's so little."
He's in a sweet spot right now (and probably for a couple months yet) when he's just cute. Not loud, not demanding. Can't run away, or say no. Everything going on it is supposed to be, as far as he knows.
Members of the ward brought us dinner a few nights and a little present, which was sweet. Soon, a couple friends will be coming into town, to break up the tedium, I mean help with the massive adventure. It'll be fun.
