Having a Bath

Things have been going pretty well in the past few days. Max is feeding well, and growing like a houseplant. Sometimes he even treats us to five hours of continuous sleep in the middle of the night. We've adapted. Five hours is more than enough sleep to get through a busy day. With coffee.

We watch the sun come up; we watch the sun go down. Things happen in between.

Here in our house, late at night, evening TV becomes BBC news through the night, which becomes brainless infomercials just before 6am, which become amusing reality shows an hour later, like Animal Extractors, where animal removal specialists trap raccoons and bats and bears and snakes from California back country and release them somewhere else, then Deal or No Deal, Rachael Ray, Tyra Banks and the juggernaut of daytime TV, the lunchtime news, then kids shows, current affairs, Survivor, Gordon Ramsay, CSI, the weather and sports round-up, and it starts all over again. And I watch my amazing wife and my beautiful baby, and I try to grab every second on the way.

Sometimes, though, Max still tests us. Last night, in desperation, after several hours of non-stop crying we put him in the bath with me. And, instantly, he stopped crying. Instantly. Mid-squeal. In fact, he fell asleep. The hours of screaming were worth it for this photo, which I think is one of my very favorites so far in his short but wonderful life.