We had a wonderfully relaxed Easter Sunday, complete with an hour of lounging out on the grass while Iris ran around and explored the yard. Bliss. Today was busier with errands and ultrasounds and grocery shopping, and then—because I realized I hadn’t taken any cute pictures of Iris in her Easter dress (full disclosure: she never even wore her Easter dress)—and we just happened to catch a revealing glimpse at the doctor’s office, I thought we’d do a quick photoshoot while there was still some afternoon light drifting around in the study.
Iris is teething again, and it’s HEART BREAKING to her when we hold the black, clicky box and don’t share it. Or let her hold it. Or carry it around.
We are mean.
She howled. And she did NOT want to play with the cutesy themed balloons.
I stripped off her dress and we snuggled crankily together until she felt perky enough to run around the study making messes in her white onesie and tights (no pants, of course). Then she noticed the balloons. BALLOONS! How exciting! Iris loves balloons!
All of which to say: I got a couple of decent shots, but I knew if I moved back into position she’d catch sight of me and the moment would be over. Also she wasn’t wearing pants. Whatever.
And just in case you’re still following the ultrasound thread of this post, YES, that is a blue balloon. Iris, as it turns out, has a little brother; we have a son. When I told Carl, he said he thought it was going to be a girl… which is how he KNEW it was going to be a boy. We are both 0 for 2 on this parental intuition thing. I thought for sure Iris was going to be a boy, and I thought for sure this one was a girl. This, friends, is why I don’t gamble.
He’s seriously perfect, by the way. Perfect little profile. Five fingers per hand. Busy practicing his swallowing and twisting around, stretching his legs out to kick the uterine wall—his fragile little limbs so tiny I couldn’t even feel the movements I saw.
We are already in love.