smile

David has new laughs and new sylables. He is practically carrying on conversations. Really really funny conversations, apparantly.

When he sees me, he smiles. He wakes up in the morning and makes little sounds letting me know. I walk to his crib and he stares at me for a moment and then breaks into a smile. When he laughs and smiles, he scrunches his face, roles his eyes, pulls his knees up to his chin, his chin down to his knees, and puts his hands in his mouth. It is a totally bashful, delighted, full-bodied laugh. I get this laugh when I zerbert him, when I throw him in the air and catch him, and when we sing "Alouette."

I particularly like it when he smiles with his pacifier in his mouth. Hiding the mouth accentuates how much of the smile is in his eyes.

He has a different smile for the dog. That is a full-voiced guffah with the kicking legs and pumping arms. He strains and reaches for the dog, and if he gets it, he grabs it by the fur and tries to eat it.

We bought him one of those seats that hangs from a spring that hangs on the door jam. This was an event worthy of a whole new range of laughs and smiles while he pumped his legs making himself jump up and down and up and down for half an hour until finally I took him out.

Yesterday, in line at the post office, I was caught in a lengthy conversation with an admiring stranger about what a beatiful baby he is. While we talked, he smiled and giggled at her. Today at the doctors office waiting room, he grinned and laughed at another patient for about five minutes. She asked if he is always such a happy baby.

Yes, he is.

About the only time he doesn't smile is when we point a camera at him. He is way too interested in what that camera is than in smiling. So, like the Loch Ness Monster and Sean Penn, you don't get to see photos of his smile.

Yet.