Cameron is three months old.
It goes by so fast.
A truer phrase was never said.
He is wonderful. My heart swells with love for him. “They” say there’s something about the second child. The second time around you are able to appreciate things in a way you couldn’t with the first. I worry a bit less. I find myself cherishing little moments. And knowing that the “bad” won’t last long. He’s so sweet. He’s so little. He needs us so much. We need him.
He is fantastic in so many ways. He sleeps. Oh my gosh he sleeps. Knock on wood. He sleeps as my first child did not. He naps in his crib! Several times a day. He can be put down awake. What!?
But you know what he doesn’t do? Take a bottle. Nope. He won’t have it. I can’t say I’ve had to endure it firsthand, because obviously when I’m around things go a different way. But he is fierce in his resistance. We thought Willa refused the bottle, but turns out what she did was just mildly show us that she didn’t really like it that much. She drank from it. Cameron? Nope. He did for a few weeks, but not anymore.
I’m not happy about it. We’re still trying. But if it doesn’t work, it’s ok. It won’t be an issue for that long. In the blink of an eye he’s going to be a toddler. Running away from me instead of clinging to my shoulder.
Three months. Can’t wait for more.