Magic Eight Ball

There are a lot of things I love about babies. I love the smell of their heads, how snuggly they are, how sweet they look when they're sleeping, how excited they get when they learn something new. I could go on forever with things I love...even though I could simultaneously list off just as many things that wear me out. Babies are the hardest of work, but they're also pretty much magic. I don't think for one second that God didn't have a plan when he made babies so dang irresistible. I'm pretty sure He knew that anything this demanding, better be intoxicatingly cute.

I actually used to think that the cuteness was designed in direct proportion to how difficult the baby was. Like you might be bestowed with some extra adorableness to counter act a more *ahem* challenging temperament. Lucky for us though, Miller somehow arrived low on the maintenance scale, and high on the adorableness scale...and has been holding steady on both ever since.

He's not a perfect baby. He has his quirks, and trails. But OH, is he a dream baby. And a dreamboat. Honestly, I could just smooch his face all day. And pretty much do. (Can you blame me? And can he stop me? Nope. And nnnnnnope.)

Happy eight months, Miller, you magic ball of love.

Previous months: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. 7.

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