Sweet Sybil. Sweet, sweet Sybil-
You hold your head up like a champ. Sat in the bumbo with daddy yesterday for the very first time and apparently rocked it. It seemed like one day we looked at you and there you were gazing around on my chest with very little wobble. Life is easier when you aren't a rag doll I'm thinkin'.
Your sleep is what dreams are made of. Down around eight, up at five-thirty for a top-off, and up at eight for good. I accept that all the good karma I've put into the world has come back in spades with you, so I realize that with this extra rest I must go restock again. Good deeds done in the name of sleep. Amen.
Little offerings of smiles and coos are goin' 'round. Your sweet language just melts my heart and you're realizing more and more each day that communication is in your blood. (As in, you get that from your mama!)
Tummy time, shmummy time. You nail it. (For about 2 minutes...)
And your brother. He absolutely adores you. Each night he pats his crib saying, "Right dare, right dare," until I place you down. He cuddles up close, giving you kisses and putting stuffed animal offerings on your belly and books for you to read. You've begun to take him in as well, gazing up and sometimes even dropping the paci for a little smile. Thick as thieves, I can already tell.
And finally, as for pictures, we missed a week. But just ask Declan- that's how we roll.
So much love,
LIVE THE MURRAYED LIFE