Little peanut, you are a Beatles fan. Already. I can't believe it, but you are instantly soothed by Yesterday, Here Comes the Sun, and Imagine. (And you are also too little to care if I get the lyrics wrong, hence "Yesterday, I'm not half the mom I used to be. There's a Siah hanging over me …")
You are now six months old. And you are fiercely independent already. You want to put your own socks on and feed yourself with your own spoon and chew on whatever you damn please. You like pulling yourself up when I hold your hands and you are frustrated when your chubby legs can't support your weight. Patience, little bird - your time for walking will come before we know it. For now, you'll need to be content with rolling like a hamster ball all over the living room.
You have a tooth threatening to poke through any day now, and you constantly rub your sore gums with your fingers and occasionally with your toes. You have developed this new, coy little smile when you tuck your chin in and press your lips together and grin. Waitstaff at restaurants love this face, and they bring the bread basket faster when they see you. Don't think this is going to be your "I get everything I want" face, because I'm not ready for that. I'm also not sure if you're vying for a pony this early, but no way, kiddo. We have three cats. No more animals. Talk to your dad about a hermit crab or something.
You and I read books every day. You are obsessed with Guess How Much I Love You (only I feel a little like a dirtbag every time I read "Little Nutbrown Hair" … what kind of name is that for an animal??) and Love is a Handful of Honey. You always look at my face at the same moments in the story, and by the end of each reading, you've attempted to eat at least three of the pages. You are hungry for learning, birdy.
You sleep in your Big Girl crib now, in your very own room. I watch you on the video monitor all night long, listening to the sounds of your sleep machine in the background. Sometimes, you shuffle around in there, sighing gently and foraging for your thumb. You are a champion sleeper, and my new mom sanity has been restored now that you are happily lights out for the night. (But I must admit - sometimes I scoop you up in my arms before I head off to bed, because I need hugs from you as often as possible.)
And now? You are starting to chow on solid foods. ("Solid" being a bit of a stretch. There isn't much solid in those jars of Earth's Best sweet potatoes and little cups of rice cereal.) The first time we touched the spoon to your lips, your dad and I almost cried from laughing because all you wanted to do was suck on the spoon. But you've come a long way since that afternoon, and now you're able to polish off a serving of solids and only wear a third of it on your chin and a third on your bid. Soon you'll eat more than a third! And eventually, you'll be able to eat without us laughing at you.
Nothing warms my heart more than your smile. Nothing makes me happier than the sound of your laugh. And nothing brings me more joy than watching you eat tutus.
I love you,