Happy seven month birthday! (Late by a few days, but who's counting? Oh yeah, me.) Thanks for being my best buddy. You amaze me because every single, solitary morning, you wake up grinning. And not just grinning, but thumping your fleece-clad feet against the crib mattress every morning like a joyous mermaid. I'll admit it - I'm jealous. You are filled with some serious joy every day. ("I'll have what she's having!") I don't know what's put you in such a good mood every day, but I'm glad you are a happy little bird. It makes the few hours of sleep I'm getting feel a little more powerful.
Your physical changes are happening every few days, and I'm afraid to literally blink for fear of missing something. In just the last two weeks, you've started to sit up on your own, creep forward and backward on your tummy, and pick up blocks with both of your hands. It's like you're figuring out that you have the power to command your body to do things, and you aren't afraid to explore that power. Like your repeated attempts to roll off the changing table. Or the way you raise your arms in the air and yell happily, like Baby King Kong. Crawling is coming soon - I can feel it - and after that, all hell will break loose.
Seven giggly months old
I love the personality that we can see developing in you. You are a really agreeable little mess, and your joy is contagious. It's fun to watch you taste new foods for the first time, or to knock over the tower of blocks. (I think I'm creating a monster, though, because I'm encouraging you to destroy something I'm building. This will eventually backfire on me.) We read books, we do goofy dances, and sometimes we let you pet the cats. ("Nice kitty" isn't coming naturally to you. "OMG KITTY!! YAAAAAAA! BABY SMASH!" seems to be more your instinctive response.) You've also discovered that your mommy is wired, and tugging on the tubing of my insulin pump is your new favorite sport.
Teeth are on tap. It's obvious. Aside from the incessant drooling and putting your toes in your mouth every change you get, you're gnawing on everything. You like to read your books and then shove them into your mouth. You like to play with blocks and then shove them in your mouth. You enjoy a good stuffed animal and then it ends up in your mouth. Just about everything, from your thumb to the bird toy attached to your play saucer, ends up the target of your giggly gumming. Teething is fun! (Especially when you won't go to sleep at night, you poor thing, because your gums are throbbing. Teething isn't really that fun. Sarcasm is, though.)
And you are thankfully not a picky eater ... yet. So far, you will eat any fruit or vegetable without making a face. (Except for peas. But who likes peas, other than Daddy? And Daddy is a freak.) You like rice cereal, food from those crazy little jars, a slice of avocado shoved into the mesh food bag thing - everything! But we need to address how delicious your baby food is, because I'm finding myself finishing what you are not. Those little Earth's Best jars of apples and apricots, or sweet potatoes? You eat 3/4 of the jar and I house the rest. This does not make me feel like a grown up, licking the inside of a jar of infant food. Actually, it makes me feel like a weirdo. (But it tastes good!)
And lastly, you're testing out that voice. You giggle. You yell. You flap your arms like your nickname's namesake and try to take off from your highchair. You think it's funny to babble while you're yawning, and you have serious conversations with your toes at every opportunity. You have all these words stored up inside of you and I know they're going to start tumbling out soon. And once they do, you'll never shut up.
Just like your mama.