Poor Adam doesn't have a completed baby book yet, and he's going on five. Abby has one and loves to show it to anyone and everyone. I'm quite surprised she hasn't shown the Schwan man yet, come to think of it.
Anyway, Adam thought maybe I could make his baby book while he took a bath last night (dear, dear soul; Michael's would be bankrupt), so I went downstairs and dug around in tubs for some pages I knew I had started years back. I found about a dozen completed pages, to my surprise, so Abby and I worked them into the sleeves of his empty book and presented him with a good-enough-for-now, genuine baby book.
He has cradled it ever since, though it made a rocky sleeping partner last night. This morning they're out on the couch, flipping pages again and memorizing the photos. A few minutes ago, as I was selecting an appropriate outfit for Jeans Day (Hello, Four Day Weekend!), I heard a surprised and delighted exclamation from the newly created book's owner:
"I - I was born on my BIRF-DAY???"
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