I am sorry. I haven't started a baby book for you. Come to think of it, I don't think I have a baby book for you. I haven't taken as many pictures of you as I did with your older sister, who was the subject of constant photo shoots for the first few months of life (Come to think of it, I'm surprised she doesn't have something wrong with her eyes given the amount of flashes she saw at a young age).
There aren't many pictures of you around the house and I just sent out your birth announcements last week, almost four months after you were born. I haven't even ordered your photos taken at the hospital.
You haven't been held for every one of your naps. Just a few on lazy Sunday afternoons. You haven't been rocked to sleep every night but that is because you don't always need it. You don't have much of a problem going to sleep on your own. You have no problem taking your morning nap in the swing while your sister and I get ready for the day. You just hang out with a look that says, "I'm cool. Do your thing. I'll be here when you're done."
Sometimes you have to wait while we deal with your big sister, change the laundry, make dinner or any one of the million other things that need to be done during the day. But you seem to be OK with that. You don't mind hanging out on the floor while we work around the house, your excited babbling and constantly moving legs signs of your contentment. You are OK with sitting in your bouncy chair, kicking your feet to music like O.A.R. (not Taylor Swift thankfully, unlike your sister) while I fold laundry.
"Don't worry about me. I'll be here when you get a moment."
I haven't obsessed over every milestone met or not met. The baby week-by-week book is gathering dust on the night stand. And yet, you still seem to be doing just fine.
Rarely do you wake up without a smile. You are even sleeping seven-plus hours a night between eating, giving me much needed rest. When you do wake, you just babble to yourself until I come for you, giving me a big, open-mouth gummy smile like I am the best thing you have ever seen. You even gasp like you are surprised I would come to get you.
Only two things make you really mad. A dirty diaper and when we stop moving in the car.
You are growing quickly. Your six-month clothes are so very close to being too small for you and you aren't even four months old yet. Your father and I think you are growing faster than your sister or maybe it just seems like that since you are our last baby.
I love your laid back style. You definitely get your disposition from your father and not me. Your fabulous hair is getting long enough to lay down properly. I will be sad when you don't rock your fauxhawk anymore.
And while we don't have dozens of framed photos of you hanging up yet, know that we love you. It is your lot in life being the second child but just know it doesn't mean we love you any less.