Elias, while absolutely adorable, is the fussiest of all three babies I’ve ever had combined
. If he’s not asleep, he’s sucking me dry or screaming in my ear. Most of the time, I keep the little squish in the Moby wrap (where he has no trouble at all falling asleep), just so I can have a cup of room-temperature coffee and a bowl of soggy cereal sometime in the afternoon. My showers are rushed, occasionally interrupted for a nursing session mid-shampoo, only to get pooped on so I have to bathe once more. I try to capture him in his good moods, smiling and cooing. The moment doesn’t last long before he’s upset again. He even makes tears now.
He doesn’t like being on his back. Or his belly. Or sitting in my lap. He prefers to be walked while being held diagonally. He likes to sleep on his right side, snuggled up to Leo, his little lion buddy.
I know he won’t be this tiny baby for long. He’s outgrown all his newborn and three-month clothes. We’re about to start buying size 2 diapers. He eats at least six ounces from what I’ve put in the bottle and his little face is so chubby and kissable. Maybe this fussy-baby stage means the Terrible Twos will be Bearable Twos.