4 Weeks

Arlo is four weeks old today. We had his one-month checkup this morning, and he's in the 54th percentile for both height and weight. He really is perfect. (Let's not talk about his big ol' noggin, which is in the 61st percentile. He didn't get that from me. That's all I'll say.) The nurse practitioner asked us if we've seen any smiles yet, and she verified that the smile he did yesterday when Danny gave him an Eskimo kiss very well could have been a real smile, as opposed to a fart smile. More, please! (Smiles, I mean. Not gas.)

Without fail, this is what he does in his stroller (even when I fly him over a bump so hard that Danny yells, "Jesus Christ!" and Arlo's head looks like it flew off for a second).

I swear our little man looks different every day. Not better, not worse. Just different. He's looking more like me than he did before, and it's an awesome thing to look at a tiny little face and see yourself there. He still looks like Danny, too, of course, and I love that he very clearly resembles both of us.