Update

Hello, non-imaginary baby, drooler of drools, my four month old mystifier. I'm in the library. I'm trying to work. Last night in the interest of sleep I caved to what I suspect is your only wish, and that was to have an all-night sleep and nursefest in bed with me and your dad. It's like being perfectly warm and cuddled while, I imagine, having a tiny drip of Nutella available at all times. You slept, some kicky baby feet notwithstanding, and I slept too, until the act of holding myself in a rigid C shape to keep you safe woke me with soreness thrumming through my hips.

You are smiley, and giggly, and curious, and you have started putting everything in your mouth. I bought two whole packets of absorbent drool bibs so that you don't soak yourself. You can go through one in about ten minutes, which I find impressive. At the moment your father is wheeling you around the city, and I will meet you both in the park behind the library in an hour.

I miss you when we are apart, even after a night of being in constant physical contact with you for eight hours.