There were no baby sized lederhosen purchased in Germany. Ah, well. Such is life.
Samson is VERY happy to have his dad back home. Not as happy as he'd be if had actually pooped this week, but pretty close. Honestly, how can somebody go for 5 days without pooping? On a regular basis? I'm surprised he doesn't cry or scream or grimace more than he does. Which is a lot.
Thursday March 6th shall forever be known as the day that Samson mastered screeching. He's been letting out a few ear-piercing shrieks here and there for a month or so now, and it's really hard to tell the difference between the "This is great!" shriek and the "I hate life and I'm going to kill you!" shriek. But today was his first marathon stretch of screeching baby noises, over and over and over for an hour or more. Sure, my ears are still ringing a little, but it's just like everything else that baby does: so damn cute. Can you please shriek and chirp and screech a little bit more? Because someday you're not going to do that anymore, someday you're going to hide things from me and have friends with fast cars who only use monosyllabic words and you'll want to stay out late after the prom and we won't be lying side by side on the floor together, screeching at the dog while you grab my lower lip in your tiny slobbery fist and GRAB it with your sharp little fingernails and TWIST it so hard that it brings tears to my eyes.
I'm going to go upstairs now and watch you sleep for a little while.