The POD

These are rare photos of Ptolemy outside of his natural habitat, his natural habitat being in someone's arms. Once at a family party, Tolly fell asleep and I put him in his crib. A few minutes later, Freestone came in the kitchen lugging the baby. He sounded alarmed when he said, "Tolly was all alone in there!" Imagine! A baby all alone in his crib...asleep. The horrors!

Ptolemy loves to interact with a big smile and happy gurgly noises that sound like an underwater conversation. I think he really thinks he's talking, and he's very sincere. If he could talk, would it be something mundane, like "Hey, Mom, are you ever going to change my diaper?" Or would it be secrets of the universe? Maybe he remembers things that the rest of us have forgotten. I'm OK with his babbling being unintelligible. He communicates his joy and contentment more than words could do justice to when his arms fling and he catches his breath with a big grin.

He also communicates his love for his mama by crying inconsolably when I'm gone. First he looks around, worried, straining to hear my voice. Then when it's confirmed that I'm not there, he wails until I get back. When I come home and he hears my voice, he looks up with his little red tear-stained face and puffy eyes. I hold him and he heaves a big, gusty sigh, mumbles something about missing me and falls asleep. I love it. Someday I won't be the center of Ptolemy's world anymore, so I'm enjoying my rock star status now. Eleven pounds of pure admiration. I'll take it!