Sorry, I'm going to gush now. Can't help it. (And, anyway, I'm his mother--I'm supposed to be all gooey over him.)
It's just that he's such a nice little chap.
I mean, yes, he spit up all over my pretty new silver flats today...and quite a bit of my clothes and hair too...but what are shoes compared to the moment that concerned expression on his face breaks into a laugh? What are clean clothes next to blowing raspberries on that chubby-tubby belly? What part of nice-smelling hair is better than listening to him jabber all about the day he had?