Down the Avenue That's Known as A1A

Last weekend we spent three days in Miami for a reunion with my WashU friends and a much-needed dose of vitamin D.  After spending his entire life bundled in two layers of fleecy clothing, our winter baby got to hang out practically naked, except when he got within 10 feet of direct sunlight, in which case he got slathered with SPF 50 sunscreen and head-to-toe protective clothing. 

  

The weather was gorgeous and Henry was extra charming all weekend.  The friends couldn't believe how mellow he was.  Even Jess, who teaches fifth grade but sort of hates babies, asked (unsolicited!) to hold him three times.

We rented a huge house with a pool.  I had high hopes for Henry's first swimming experience.  He was not impressed.  I'm blaming the rather chilly water and decidedly un-Michael-Phelps-like hat.  It cannot possibly be the case that my child will actually hate the pool.

 

The biggest news from the weekend: Henry rolled over for the first time!  He had been close for a couple of weeks now and finally worked out that tricky shoulder hurdle.   We were hanging out on the pool deck and a few of the friends got to witness the big event.  I cheered for him and he looked so proud of himself that I cried a little bit.  My little baby's first big accomplishment.  

 

This was Henry's also first airplane trip.  He was an absolute champ on the way there: nursed on the way up, slept for half the flight, smiled at the flight attendants for the other half, and took a bottle on the way down.   The return flight was a little tougher -- after the main ascent we got up to change a very wet diaper, and while waiting for the lavatory, he started screaming like he was in pain.  I thought maybe he didn't nurse for long enough on the way up and his ears hurt, so I ran back to our seats and stuck him back under the hooter-hider.  He was also really tired from a weekend of excitement and deviating from his normal routine, so it could have been just a fatigue meltdown.  He nursed a little more and immediately fell asleep, then stayed that way for the rest of the flight, despite the fact that he's about twice as long as an airplane seat is wide and had his head mashed against the armrest and his feet hanging out in the aisle where everyone kept bumping into us.  When we got off the plane in D.C., I noticed liquid dripping onto my foot.  I guess we never made it back to the lavatory to change that diaper that was already wet at the beginning of the two-hour flight.  Oops.

All in all, it was a fantastic trip.  The sun on your butt, the wind in your tuft . . . what more could a boy want?