What? Father's Day wasn't yesterday? Well, better late than never, I suppose. I couldn't pull it together two Sundays ago. So we celebrated yesterday. Peter is always saying how much he loves french toast. So I thought "Hey! I should make some for him!" It was one of my brighter ideas. (That's why they pay me the big bucks.) So I made coconut french toast which we ate before church and both thought was delicious.
So glad he's the father of my child! (Still working on paint colors in the dining room as you can see.)
Yesterday in church he spit up all over Peter nearly from head to toe. It was hilarious. But then I was concerned that his feeding previous to the vomiting didn't count because it was now soaking into Peter's clothes. And I don't want my boy to starve! So I was expressing my concern to Peter and he said: "Love, he's fat. Stop worrying about it. He is fat."
Muffin Top Belly
The little man who made this belated father's day celebration possible. Clearly in a celebrating mood. And look! The there's Theodore in the background! The cats are still around up to their usual shenanagins.John is doing well and growing like a marshmellow that you put in the microwave and watch it expand into all of its delectable, obtuse glory. He's nearly busting out of his size 1 diapers. He's constantly sporting a case of muffin top when he wears them. Though he still fits into newborn clothes. Despite all of this, I constantly worry whether he's getting enough food. I've heard several disconcerting stories from friends who had milk supply issues. Since you never know exactly how much they're getting when you breastfeed, I've been a bit paranoid about it since he was born.
True. He could probably survive a while on his cheek chub alone.