Lionfish is three months old.
It seems completely impossible that this is true. The last few months have simultaneously both flown by and been some of the longest in my life, and she was there, for all of it. She spent so much time in her "bucket," visiting my dad and my mother in law in the hospital and driving to and fro. Pretty much the rest of the time she has spent in my arms or in a baby carrier. She is only just learning to sleep while not being held or rocked or driven somewhere. Its very hit or miss at this point. Right now, hit. So I'm taking a moment to chronicle.
She has taken maybe three bottles of breastmilk successfully, and as of this writing, exactly zero bottles of formula. Bullshark is finally able to take the lead on this, so hopefully we'll have some success soon.
She smiles. All. The. Time. She is the smile-iest baby I've ever encountered.
My dad is completely and utterly smitten, which has been great therapy for him. She actually made "I'm mad" noises at him when he dared look away from her to watch golf -- it was like, "hey, pay attention to me!"
She tolerates beautifully the rough affection that her toddler sister shows her.
And ... she's awake.