Despite her Rudy Guliani/Donald Trump comb-over (which we hope has no bearing on her future political beliefs) and her occasional choice to approach breast-feeding like a bout of alligator wrestling, we are definitely addicted to this little babe. She’s in full-on cooing mode, and flashes an epic smile when the mood strikes her (granted, that might be when we’re sure she’s gazing at her adoring parents but it turns out she’s blissed out on her favorite wall hanging on the wall behind our shoulders, but it’s still damn charming). We finished reading Lonesome Dove together, though I had to edit it significantly–there are some truly gnarly episodes of violence that I didn’t think her delicate young ears needed to hear–and she seems to express a preference for Helen Oxenbury books and Brian Andreas stories (can you call the wandering gaze of an infant a preference?).
She also met her great-grandparents Geddry for the first time. Grandma worked her baby whisperer magic and this was the result any time Sophia was in her arms:
Sophia and Papa spent a great deal of time appreciating one another’s brilliance:
She hung out in a bowl as we did an unofficial weigh-in (as of a couple of weeks ago, she was tipping the scales at 10 lbs 7 oz aka she is a hunk of baby love) and seemed to dig the womb-like environment:
And she helped her Jewish dad celebrate his birthday on Easter with bunny cakes topped with candles…a true interfaith moment: