I'm not going to tell you, Ruby, for fear of ruining a good thing, but this is the best week we've had since Thanksgiving.
Even that one day, where you were a giant cranky pants who ran a 101 fever with a massive pooping schedule that left your poor bottom red and angry, you were a baby who tried to be happy, wanting nothing more than for me to hold you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Even that night, you still went to bed and stayed there, waking once, only to soothe yourself back to sleep before waking a few hours later to eat.
For the last five days, we seem to have found our groove, our Happy Place. Five months is going to be good for us. I can feel it.