The way his little feet are ALWAYS doing something. If he’s in the high chair, his feet are up under the tray; if he’s drinking his bottle, his feet are in the air and he wants me to hold them; if he’s in his bath chair, his feet are pattering in the water on the floor of the tub.
The giggling.
The different smiles for different occasions. He has a big huge grin, and a little closed mouth one, and a sly “I’m not supposed to be doing this” smirk.
The way he is so excited to see total strangers (as long as they don’t try to pick him up). He thinks every person is on this earth to smile at him and tell him he’s cute.
The way he applauds for things, like when the superhero pig saves London Bridge on his cartoon.
The way he leans over his tray and starts slowly dropping food on the floor, until he loses all patience and just thrashes his arms through the food until someone frees him from the high chair.
His little hands grabbing my fingers or poking my nose or smacking my chest.
His sweet face and calm breathing once he finally falls asleep.
His messy kisses. He doesn’t give them very liberally, so when you get one, treasure it.
The way he stands on his tippy toes now in order to see what’s on the table and countertops, so he can try to grab it.
Kristen Stewart, Writer 