Three!

Weston turned three months old yesterday, which means we're officially out of the "fourth trimester." I think he knows that he's the second born and that he needs to speak up for himself because he is getting the hang of that particular skill already. This kid has the oddest preferences ever. He likes being held in arms better than...well, anything else, really. But he can tell the difference between when I'm actually holding him and when he's in a baby carrier, even if his body is in the exact same position and he makes it clear that he wants BOTH my hands to be devoted to him. One of the reasons baby carriers are great is that you can hold the baby AND do something else--sweep the floor, clean a counter, get the two-year-old's lunch ready, etc. But Weston has decided that this won't do and so when he's in the carrier, he prefers to hold onto one of my hands and have me pat his back with the other. Totally defeats the purpose.

He has a serious pout and cry when he's mad about something. The funny thing is that when he's hungry or sleepy or needs a diaper change, he has a sweet, quiet little cry, but if you offend him somehow, he will emit a horrifying, high-pitched noise. Luke loves it because he can go make mean faces at his baby brother and make him shriek. (This does not bode well for the future, I feel.)

He's very fond of routines. And by "fond of routines," what I mean is "requires everything to be exactly so and if it isn't he will TELL you about it." I had gotten into the habit of putting him in his pajamas and then rocking him to sleep in the living room while watching something on TV. Now, he doesn't actually watch the screen, but I guess he'd gotten used to the noise because one night, a couple of weeks ago, the TV was being ornery, so I turned it back off. Apparently, that was the WORST THING THAT COULD EVER HAPPEN because never before had I heard that kind of screaming come from this baby. In the end, I had to play music videos on YouTube to get him to calm down enough to fall asleep. (I haven't repeated the mistake since. I now know to have a back-up DVD in the player, just in case the TV is wonky while I'm rocking him to sleep.)

He's turning out to be a little bit of a daredevil. This afternoon, he was hanging out in the swing while I was getting lunch ready and all of a sudden, he lurched to one side and almost tipped the whole swing over because of the momentum of his head. He thought it was hilarious, I thought it was...not. And during his bath tonight, he figured out how to dislodge himself from the little seat in his bathtub and went sliding down the tub. McMoose, who was right beside the tub, caught him and set him back up, at which point Weston grinned, giggled, and tried to do it again. DUDE. Why is my non-mobile baby already giving me heart attacks?

He still loves to be held most of the time and we are happily obliging. Really, how can you refuse someone so cuddly and smushy and sweet? (More pictures of the cuddly, smushy, sweetness coming soon.)