Dear Asher,

Every month when I sit down to write your monthly letter I have the same terrifying feeling… When you were turning two months old, I talked myself into believing that you were the cutest, happiest, most fun baby in the whole wide world. I didn’t think you could possibly get any better. Then, the second month came and went, and to my surprise, you got even cuter, happier, and more fun! Month after month I find myself wishing and hoping that I can somehow freeze time so you will stay just like you are forever…. This month was no different.

I’ll admit that I don’t exactly have a wealth of knowledge or hoard of experience when it comes to babies, but I can’t help but assume that you are, in fact, THE happiest baby in the history of the world. Ever. Period. Before you were born, happiness is not something I generally associated with babies. I knew that babies could (on rare occasions) make adults insanely happy, but for some reason I had never considered the fact that babies themselves could be happy. I’ve never seen anyone smile as much as you do and that is my favorite thing about being your dad! My nickname for you over the past couple of months has been Mr. Smiles. No matter what else is going on in my life, no matter how stressed out, tired, gloomy or grumpy I may be, your little smile ALWAYS makes me feel better.

We celebrated our first Christmas together as a family. On Christmas Eve we drove out to Mount Pleasant with Gramma and Grandpa to spend time with your Uncle Wes, great aunts Jan and Julie, and your great uncle Charlie. Then, on Christmas morning we went over to MeeMaw and PawPaw’s house to open presents and watch the Cowboys beat up on Tampa Bay. When it came time to open presents, I must confess, I was a little jealous of the all the gifts you and your cousin Ally got. Every Christmas is the same old story… we all promise not to go overboard on gifts for each other and the kids, but come Christmas morning, there are always 4,917,532 presents under the tree. I swear we could have gift wrapped the entire house with all the wrapping paper we used. In hindsight, we should have just given you shiny wrapping paper because you were far more interested in it than in your actual gifts. I can’t wait till next year’s Christmas!

You are finally sleeping through the night in your crib in your own room. This little experiment has been a challenge for your mother and a blessing for me. When I say that you’re sleeping through the night, what I really mean is that I am sleeping through the night… I am a notoriously light sleeper (which is going to suck for you as a teenager – haha), so when you were sleeping in our bedroom I didn’t get a whole lot of uninterrupted sleep. I really can’t complain about sleep because your mother has gone for 5 months now without more than 6 continuous hours of sleep. She is the amazing bionic no-sleep-needing mommy. Your saint of a mother now sleeps with a monitor right by her head and quietly gets up 2 or 3 times a night to sooth or feed you while I’m off in dreamland. On the weekends, I try to get up before her and hang out with you so she can grab a couple extra hours of shuteye. Those mornings when I get to wake you up are the best!

Ready for your close-up

No Paparazzi Please

Speaking of your mother and all of her saintliness, she made a HUGE sacrifice for you this month… she gave up eating anything from the dairy food-group. You’d been having all sorts of stomach issues, and we had tried everything imaginable to make it stop. Icky tasting medicines, bicycle legs, super-secret yoga-like burping techniques, warm blankets, belly rubs, and even The Force. Nothing seemed to help. So, just for grins, your mom decided to try a dairy-free diet for a day or two to see if that had any effect on you, and much to her horror, it did. How crazy is it that eating or drinking dairy products taints your mom’s breast-milk? It just doesn’t make any sense. I hope you appreciate the enormity of this sacrifice and how great your mom is for doing it. I gotta be honest, I love you lots but I don’t think I could do it. I looooove me some milk and I loooooove me some cheese.

I don’t remember what day it was exactly, but it is a day that will forever live in infamy… the day you discovered your voice. Up until that day, all your little noises (cries and all) were like little trumpets of joy in my ears. Then, out of the blue, you grew a police-siren in your throat. Thankfully you don’t use it very often, but when you do, holy crapola are you loud. You’ve also somehow learned to speak Cantonese. You will lie on your playmat for hours just talking to yourself in Cantonese as if you were ordering takeout… I only know what Cantonese sounds like from the Wayne’s World movies, but I’m pretty sure that’s what it is. Zang!

Love,
Papa