What does Felix do at 8 weeks of age? He learns to hold himself up during tummy time, without screaming.

He studies our faces and flashes huge toothless smiles.

Also, he hones his spitting up skills, continues frequent soiling of his diapers, and manages to get by on an inadequate amount of sleep.

He learned everything he knows from his big sister. Especially the part about the sleep.

At last weekend’s May Fair in Clark Park. There were bouncy houses, food trucks selling all manner of delicious eats, and just about all of our friends from the neighborhood. We could have stayed in the park all day. Emma was fully in favor of that plan, but settled for two long park trips, one in the morning and again later in the afternoon.

2 for 3 on smiles. Not bad.

Join us in the bedroom every Friday morning at 9 while the Mortensen family leads us all in a rousing chorus of “You Are My Sunshine.”

At least one of those boys has a soggy bottom.

After a bit of a fussy stretch (the six week fussiness peak?), Felix sleeps soundly.

He continues to serve as a tiny cheese factory and, as Emma has aptly pointed out, he is an excellent pooper.

Felix is not a fan.

He’ll look around happily for about 20 seconds, start screaming, haul himself over the pillow, and then flop face down into the bed (thus ending tummy time).

Head circumference: 15 inches (65th percentile)

Length: 22.5 inches (85th percentile)

Weight: 10 pounds, 15.7 ounces (80th percentile)

Yes friends, this boy is three tenths of an ounce shy of ELEVEN pounds. He is huge, but proportionally huge.

This was the scene at our house this past Sunday morning. Every once in a while, Andrew and I will reminisce about “the old Sundays.” These were long, lazy days when we would wake up late, read the New York Times in bed, eat a decadent brunch, and maybe take a nap (doing nothing is exhausting, after all). I would be lying if I said a day like that doesn’t sound nice, but good lord, I wouldn’t trade these Sundays for anything.

The blue-eyed trio joined me for a picnic in the park tonight.

At 3 weeks of age, Felix acquired fighting skills.

“Give me the milk, mom. Don’t make me rough you up.”

Long before we knew Felix would be Felix, I imagined taking some pictures with our new baby outside the original hospital to show his or her historic place of birth. The day we brought Felix home from the hospital was rainy and cool, so we couldn’t take the pictures then. We went back this past Sunday, a beautiful warm, sunny day. Emma was tired and hungry and more interested in dancing on the lawn than sitting for some boring pictures (and who can blame her).

And so, we have a collection of sort of decent pictures of our lunatick family in front of this country’s original lunatick hospital.