Little fucker cries All. The. Time. One thing I'm discovering about myself is that I'm not all that patient. I believed I was until recently, but observing the differential ways in which I and my wife react to ceaseless crying, it's become clear to me that I'm not very good at this. Maybe I'll forget how difficult it's been in a year or two, but I doubt it. I love him and will be the best parent I can be, but voluntarily subjecting myself to this shit twice? Not sure about that. All that said, it'd be nice to have a daughter, too.
Apparently I was a wonderfully quiet baby, slept and napped regularly. My younger sister was the nonstop screamer. I guess those sorts of things skip? Or maybe, like moving furniture between houses, our brains cleverly and mercifully forget the ordeal so as to induce us to do it again.