Also, goddamn does that kid hate the car. He will scream for half an hour straight in the car.
It's very unpleasant.
But Charlie's saving grace--the thing that makes me forget that I feel like shit every morning and that driving anywhere makes my nerves stretch tighter than Cher's face--is that he is charming. Oh my, is Charlie ever charming.
He laughs when I tickle his ribs or noisily kiss his cheeks. He kicks and squirms so happily on the sheepskin in front of the fire, eating his fists and just enjoying the hell out of his life.
And he smiles. He smiles all the time, at everyone. He even smiles at his brother, which is nothing short of saintly considering the marks he bears on his head* as a testament to his brother's not-always-gentle treatment of small things.
Someday he'll sleep better and ride in the car without hysterics. But I hope he'll still always be smiling. Always.
Like this, only not with the chubby cheeks of a three-month-old. More's the pity.
* Specifically, marks from Cubby's nails, from when he formed a claw and swiped Charlie's poor, bald, defenseless head. Sigh.