It's been a month now, and we're still getting to know each other, but I've compiled some notes on the newest member of the family.
What I know so far is that Milo...
...is a little animal. We moved him to his own room, despite my motherly desire to have him nearby, because even in his sleep he makes the grunts, groans, toots and snorts of a baby bison. He is working on being the Second Noisiest Person in America.
...has questionable taste. His favorite night-night music is pop rock/power ballads between 1982 and 1986 (minus Sammy Hagar-era Van Halen and Heart, which redeems him somewhat).
...likes to toga. He hates to be swaddled unless he has one arm free. Am thinking of dressing him as Caesar for Halloween.
...is fat. I mean this in the nicest, proudest way. He is a satisfying snack of a baby. I bite him all the time. He's delicious.
...likes his sister. Smack in the middle of this evening's witching hour (which, in Week 5, has accelerated to 1.5 hours of not happy anywhere from 7:30 to 10 p.m. Come over. It's fun.), he stopped his fussing to gaze at Lu as he sat on her lap during storytime.
So far, he's a keeper.