"Mine is not to wonder why, mine is but to do or die." - Tennyson.
When I had a child, I thought I would hear this question a lot.... "Why?" Ivo hasn't brought this one up with us yet, however more and more we are asking him "why?". At 3AM, he's screaming inexplicably, John (from the bed) "Why, Ivo? Why?" Most late afternoons, his mood turns on a dime from sweet to sour, we get "the lip", and he's off again on a tantrumatic bender. John moans, "Why is he doing that, honey? Why?" I don't ask "why" too much anymore, the boot camp nature of taking care of an infant has turned me into a robotic marine. When it's time to go over the top, I don't ask questions.
P.S. Ivo is now 25 inches tall. He's taller than Snakey, as you can see. John got the info the other day that if Baby I is over 30 inches by the age of 1 year, he will be a giant. We're all secretly hoping.
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