Five weeks

Today's firsts:

Smiling and babbling at my old stuffed rabbit, who supervises you on your changing pad

Meeting another baby! For lunch. This one was Zuzu, daughter of Amanda. They and I and you and your dad all met at Park Avenue Tavern amidst a heap of strollers and diaper bags and carriers and also coats and scarves, as there is an unseasonable cold snap seizing the eastern seaboard today, and temperatures are getting down into the twenties tonight. You were bundled up in Zuzu's hand me down snowsuit, which makes you look like a stuffed animal, with paws and bear ears.

Seeing art. After lunch you and I went over to the Morgan library, to check out the exhibition of Sargent charcoal portraits. You were pronounced unusually cute by all the women in the ladies' room who came upon me changing you, and I had nursing solidarity foisted upon me by a father of twins who was about my parents' age. Sargent's charcoals are truly remarkable. I especially enjoyed his renderings of dour Bostonians, but also one of a handsome progressive Jewish leader whose first time was.... Charles.

We are now home. You are making semi-wakeful squeaking sounds from your boppy lounger, and I am having a glass of wine. Your father is at his office, the cold air is bearing down on us and leaking in around the uninsulated sides of the window unit air conditioner, and the dog is relaxing in his dog bed, wishing someone would take him on a walk, but knowing he has to wait.

And that is where we stand today, five weeks after your birth.