Just a quick note this morning: James slept like a normal person for this first time, really, ever. He fell asleep in his crib (and I wasn't in it with him, as I've resorted to a few times recently.) He woke up just three or four times, fussing in an ordinary way, not shrieking. This morning he is cheerful, seems rested. What does it mean? Will it happen again?
It is a chilly morning, and Henry ate his breakfast sitting on the porch swing, swathed in blankets like the lava plug in a volcano. When I came out to check on him, he was looking east into peach & lavender clouds and told me excitedly that he'd just just seen a "whole bunch of little birds" fly away together. It's hard to convey how delightful it is to see him quietly contemplating his world and finding it good.
Moments later, with even greater excitement, he pointed to a hummingbird that was buzzing inquisitively around our porch, just at the level where a hummingbird feeder might hang. "Look!" he cried. "It's a little baby bird, looking for its Mama!"
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