Belly up to the breast

I hate to bore our readers with the grungy minutae of newborn care, but at the moment, it's all the material I have to work with. That said, I changed four diapers this morning in 10 minutes. Incredibly, he seemed less pleased about this than I was. At least we know he's getting enough to eat.


Oscar has this way of propping himself up on the breast like a barfly on his sixth pint of milk. With a little assistance, of course.


"No pictures, please." Here, he's modeling a keepsake of our friend Sylvie. She wore this lace shirt when she was a newborn, as did her son, Samuel. I think that if we had only accessorized with a little white skullcap, he'd be a dead ringer for The Pope in this shot. Well, maybe the first John Paul, anyway. We're not raising any Johnny Ratz.


It's cold and blustery in New York today, but these last few days have been warm and sunny, and our 6th Floor corner perch affords us some brilliant sunlight. Here he's catching some rays (good for jaundice).