I can tell that he knows what I've done to him; I can see it in his eyes. At least he's stopped screaming.

He scowls at me angrily as I run my fingernail down the middle of his back. He draws his knees in and his little bottom goes up in the air. He's so precious! I have to find a mirror; he has to see what he looks like right now, all pink and squeaky-clean right after his bath.

I don't think he'll be going anywhere tonight.

His girl friend will probably wonder where he is. If she calls, I'll tell her the truth. I'll tell her that he'll be staying home with me from now on. I'll tell her that he can't talk right now, and that tomorrow probably won't be a good time either.

"Time to go night-night little man." I roll him over, and have him safely ensconced in a dry cotton diaper in less than 30 seconds. It's like I'd been doing this all my life, not just the past 12 hours. "It's really warm; do you want me to dress you in pajamas, or should I put you down like this?" He doesn't respond; the little guy is still being stubborn.

I put him on his back in the crib; he is dressed only in a diaper, fastened with a single safety pin at the front. I walk from the room, shutting off the light on my way out. From the hallway, I turn and look back into the new nursery. I'd positioned his crib under a large window; and it is bathed in moonlight.

I watch as he squirms and twists on the stiff mattress. He raises each of his hands in front of his eyes, and seems to study his pudgy fingers. He finds his feet, and brings each of them to his face. His movements increase. He tugs and pulls at his diaper, eventually locating the pin. His whimper is low at first, but increases in intensity quickly. As the whimper becomes a cry, he frantically slaps at the pin with both hands.

I step into the nursery and scoop him up in my arms, which only makes him scream louder. Ignoring his protests, I cuddle him to my chest and loose myself in his warmth and scent.

I love the way babies smell. Don't you?


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