When Littlest was born he was super skinny and long [4.30.10]:
He got bigger fast [6.22.10]:
And he got happy [7.14.10 and 7.21.10]:
Now he's bursting out of his 6-month clothes and generally amplifying himself in all dimensions [7.24.10]:
I like to call him "Just a Dude [Little]" because he's very much like our first when she was a baby: fat, superhappy, adorable, and typifying the same hard-to-describe round/creamy gestalt that Little invented. And not at all put-downable.
Littlest's favorite activity: staring in Mommy or Daddy's face and grinning and cooing. He does it from across the room, the lap, or the carseat. He pretty much would smile and gurgle and tongue-wag all day long if anybody else had the endurance he does. It's super sweet.
Littler loves Littlest to death; quite nearly literally. She is so fond of him that she sits on him, drops him, pokes his eye, shoves her food into his mouth, hammers him on the head with her solid dolly, kisses him while lying on him so he can't breathe, and generally does anything violent that could possibly be construed as well-intentioned affection. In fact, Littlest now recognizes Littler as a source of unique terror, so whenever he can even see her he screams. We don't really want to discourage sibling affection--especially considering the lack of love lost between the two girls--but Littlest's welfare is at stake here. So Littler isn't even allowed to touch him any more. Sad, but--trust us here--totally necessary.