Westley is twelve weeks old, and not amused.Our low-key celebration amounted to putting on Raiders of the Lost Ark and making cinnamon-raisin bread. I mistook the sound of Nazis melting for the baby crying.
He coos almost constantly when he's awake, and sometimes when he's asleep, just to mix things up and make me wonder if he needs anything. It seems like he makes a new noise every day. Today, it was a version of his usual cooing filtered to sound the way I imagine a baby howler monkey sounds. I don't know whether he's practicing speaking in complete sentences, or if he's starring in a one-man avant garde musical. In any case, this little man is one of the happiest babies I've ever known--except when the camera comes out. Then he's dead serious.
Being twelve weeks old is serious business.
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