I don't know how you're holding your head up, but you are.

You are only five weeks-old, and should not be capable of standing let alone smiling about it, but look at you go! it's like you looked at the laws of nature and decided, "Mmmmm, nah." And that was that: nature right out the window.

Well, alright then! I can deal with that, and your diapers, which I have already changed (though it would be nice if you could make a significant move in going to the bathroom, as you didn't do that yesterday), and feeding you, which is remarkably easy, as you barley fight the bottle and won't let anyone take it out of your mouth. So I just hold you, and I hold the bottle, and me and your mom share a grilled cheese, and all three of us have some lunch. Or, in your case, little, tiny, tiny girl, your third lunch.

Then there's rocking you, which you love so, so much, but which can be difficult because if you're unhappy, and you don't cry a lot but, when you're unhappy you tend to push off from the person holding you with your feet like your descending from a rock climb and your punch your hands willy-nilly (with no evil intent, of course. You're an infant), or grab onto to anything and everything, just in case you've changed your mind about your sudden descent from the rise. But, I hold onto you tightly and rock you back and forth, letting you decide which way you want to rest your head, and we glide across the floor with your mom and dad who are dancing in the kitchen to the music playing across the room on a spinning record.

I have spent a lot of time with you, over a week now. We have tickle fights where I tickle and you fight and laugh and my God, your smile is truly the sweetest thing. It's like I can't get enough of you. Though there are, I admit, times when Aunt Mary is a little too tired to play or has to let someone else burp you because I'm hungry or really need to use the bathroom and so can't help you go. Of course, I usually hold it, either need, and there is always someone around for you, my dear. There always will be. We, your mother, your father, your family, and I will always be here for you.

you are snuggled up to my chest now, resting your head beneath my chin, and moving around to get into a better, more comfortable position as I write. I dont mind. Your sleepy breathing and your warmth is so sweet I almost want to laughh and cry at the same time. I can't even begin to speak about the weight of you here, on my chest, rest ing to the sound of the music playing off my laptop and the rise of my breathing, the sound of my heart which, surely, your sensitive ears must hear, the weight of your existence. It is almost too much to grasp.

But of course, now that you are here, and I have you with me, my dear, it would be impossible for me to let go.