Sleep has been a rare commodity these last few days; it would appear the Wee Baby T has hit a growth spurt.
It amazes me that one evening that cute Banksy onesie fits perfectly, and the next morning you can’t take it off. I know he won’t stay this small forever, but it seems overnight he jumped from a tiny and fragile 6 lbs 10 oz to a wrist-cramping 11 lbs +. We just used the last of the newborn sized diapers, He’s crushing 6 oz for breakfast and then coming back for more 2 hours later.
I once thought I could look to the size of his clothes as a sort of growth litmus test: “Oh, newborn sized onesie, that sounds about right.” Nope, he’s swimming in it. “6-9 months? Well I’ll just put this in a box and dig it out later, unless…” fits him like a glove (I can’t believe this expression is still in use after 1994).
I’m thrilled he is getting bigger – one day he’ll be walking, then the fun really starts, but part of me wants him to stay small enough that he can lay on my chest without kicking me in the balls.