Our house is infested

We have baby rabies.

C and I have always known that when we had children that we wanted many, and that we wanted them close together in age.  I’ll be the first to admit that those early months of L.A.’s life had me questioning our timeline.  He was a great baby, but newborns in general are a heck of a lot of work, and L.A. just started sleeping through the night about two months ago (though his teething of late has interrupted that bliss).  That’s a long time to go with nearly no sleep. 

So how in the world is it that recently our conversations have turned back to baby names, L.A.’s “big boy” room and the journey of pregnancy?  Perhaps it has to do with the realization that L.A. will never again be that teeny tiny curled up baby.  He’s changing every day, and with his new teeth coming in, his incessant chatter and the anticipation of mobility, we realize that he’s really growing up.  Fast.

So while a contamination at home would normally result in an immediate call to an exterminator, we’re going to let this one fester for a bit.  We’re okay with this one.  Don’t get me wrong, there’s no rush, we just both really look forward to meeting our next little one if we are so blessed.