The boy eats every two hours. This is wonderful for his growth. He is getting so large he almost fell out of his swing and now instead of picking him up we drag him around like a burlap sack full of bowling balls. The downside of his eating schedule is it makes your head explode to be woken up every two hours.
With a face that's as sweet as cotton candy dipped in artisanal honey, Lev is like a living Rorschach test. At five weeks old, he remains a blank canvas onto which we can project own fantasies, delusions and emotions. His face is so pure, it's never even felt a tear drop yet (at this age, when he cries, only tiny snowflakes shaped like angels come out of his tear ducts).
This journey into becoming a trans godmother has much more to offer than I can begin to imagine. Our discussions have included the maybe-one-day events of seeing my goddaughter get married and start a family of her own. Who knew? Who could have known? I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Blessed be.