Archive for the ‘Photos’ Category


The Picture of Perfect Perfection


Dear Dwarfling,

Your mother took you to a doctor’s appointment this week, and we finally have medical proof of what I have suspected all along:

You’re completely perfect.

It’s official.

Our doctor has looked you over, poked you in every way possible – measured, weighed, prodded and did any other verb that she could think of to you. And after all of that you have been proclaimed to be in perfect health.

She also said you were adorable, but she gets no points for stating the blindingly obvious.

You now weigh just over 10 lbs and are 59cm long. You are growing at a good rate proportional to your size. Your head measures 38cm in circumference. I’m not sure why the doctor felt the need to measure that, but at least now I can order a hat for you and know that it’s going to fit.

The doctor also commented on how good your awareness is and how well you are engaging with the world around you.  That is no surprise. I can already tell that you aren’t happy just sitting around, and that you want to get moving and start doing stuff. I am quite sure that once you get your legs under you – and I think that you’ll skip the whole crawling thing – you’re going to be a rampaging beast who refuses to sit still. Just like Godzilla or King Kong, except our living room will be your Tokyo.

I am very glad that you’re in perfect health. It’s a relief, honestly.




Making Up For Lost Time


Dear Dwarfling,

I'm sure she is contemplating a solution to world hunger. Or pooping.

I’m sorry that I haven’t written to you in a while. Well, it’s been more than a while, really – more like half of your life so far. Daddy promises to do better in the future. How about I try to write a letter to you every weekend?

These past six weeks have been amazing. You have transitioned from an intriguing, but docile ball of cuteness wrapped in a blanket to an engaging and interactive, yet incredibly tiny person. When you look up at me with your dark brown eyes, it’s very apparent that you know who your Daddy is, and that you’re very happy to see him.

It’s clear that you have become a lot more aware of your surroundings. You’ve started reaching out and wanting to touch things. When I’m feeding you with the bottle, you hold my hands so I don’t take the bottle away and occasionally grab my fingers with a Baby-Deathgrip that Spock could learn a thing or two from. And we have this multi-coloured ball hanging above your crib which you find batting around with your hand endlessly entertaining. You still haven’t really learned how to control your arms yet, though, so for a while your Mom and I weren’t sure if you were doing it on purpose or accidentally hitting it while flailing. You flail a lot. And you regularly whack yourself in the face, which is really funny.

It’s very cool to watch you discover the world around you, and I can’t wait until you can start exploring it for yourself. Although I dread the moment that you discover that breaking things is fun.


And I’m not sure what you have against your mother, but it seems that the only way that you’ll fall asleep these days is if Daddy is holding and rocking you. Mommy can try for hours, but you spend five minutes in the rocking chair with me and you’re sleeping as soundly as if I had just made you watch fifteen hours of televised Golf. I know that you don’t know what that is yet, but trust me, it will put you to sleep like nothing else can – it certainly works for me.

Since I last wrote, you have turned from a all-night party baby to a kid who, once we get you to sleep, doesn’t wake up again until Daddy’s alarm clock goes off  – and sometimes not even then. You’ve become a champion sleeper at night, suddenly. I’m not sure what happened, but I’m sure it has something to do with the whisky that I’ve been slipping into your bottle at night.

Just kidding about that; I’m not going to resort to whisky until you start teething.

You’ve also developed the most adorable smile ever. It’s a smile that does not end at your lips, it’s a whole body smile that makes you squirm and squiggle like a tiny, dancing Bill Cosby, and it absolutely melts my heart every time that you do it. And you do it a lot and with very little provocation, so there is a lot of melted heart residue to scrape off the carpet.

I just gotta giggle like the Jell-o pudding pops




Go to Sleep, Little Dwarfling


Dear Dwarfling,

You are incredibly adorable when you sleep.  The way you can seem to get comfortable in any position, no matter how uncomfortable that it may look to someone who has never mastered the cat-like ability to sleep while upside-down.

You make all sorts of funny faces when you sleep, and do this weird eyes-rolling-into-the-back-of-your-head thing that is incredibly cute at the same time as being completely disturbing.

You snore.  You whimper.  You flail your arms.  I’d love to know what you’re dreaming, but given your experiences to this point, it probably has something to do with boobs.

I wish you would sleep more often.

And I wish it wasn’t required that I hold you while you do it.

Don’t get me wrong, I love you and I love holding you.  But damn, girl, it’s hard to do everything one-handed.  I’m coping well enough with eating and drinking.  Typing or playing on the computer is really hard.  Trying to take apart a computer or do any other chores is utterly impossible.

Also, what’s with not letting me sit down while holding you?  It seems that you need to be in motion all the time, and even sitting and rocking in a chair isn’t good enough, no, you need to be moving.  Do you have some pressing appointment or somewhere you need to be?

You were so great in the first while, but now that you’ve been around for five weeks a crib just doesn’t cut it anymore for you.  No, it’s much nicer in Daddy’s arms, isn’t it?

Daddy and Mommy are very tired, Teagan, darling.

Go to sleep.  We’ll be here when you wake up.



The Dwarfling, passed out in my arms.