
Hands up, baby, hands up! Give me your love, gimme gimme your love, gimme all your love... all your looooooooooooove -
or alternately, and less embarrassingly,
I came to get down, so get out your seats and jump around.
Jump around, Jump up Jump up and get down!
By the way, did you know you can turn just about anything into a song to the tune of Frere Jacques?
Stinky Sammy, stinky Sammy, how are you? How are you? Are there poopies, are there poopies, in your pants? In your pants?
Yes, this is how I spend my days. :-)
We're here. Exhausted, but here. Doodle's been going through a growth spurt, which means he's eating every hour to 1 1/2 hours, which translates into no sleep for mama and daddy. And he's getting his voice back (the ventilator went right through his vocal chords), which means that adorable little peep is now a full-fledged wail when he wakes up starving (which is hard to believe, seeing as that he had just pounded a good ounce or two just seemingly moments before). He's discovered that his hands are, in fact, his, and he can make mama feel awfully guilty when he shoves his fist in his mouth because mama apparently just can't get the food fast enough.
So I'm sure we'll update more when we come through the other side of this and he goes back to a normal routine where we have more than 15 minutes to gather our thoughts - and make another bottle.
Otherwise, yup, he's still so amazingly cute it almost hurts. :-)
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