To my Guy,
Five months old! (And I’m pretty sure I forgot to write you a letter at the four month mark, so here’s a quick high five for turning four months old a bit back, too.) Five months ago, I was excitedly awaiting your arrival and folding piles of baby clothes. Now, I am greeted by your big, toothless smile every morning while you excitedly slap your legs against the crib like a mermaid.
You are a tiny sweet potato with an appetite for both pears and destruction. Despite being on the more petite side at the moment (single digit percentile for weight and barely double digits for height), you eat like you are a teenage boy. In the last few weeks, I’ve had trouble keeping up with your food demand, so we’ve started working in the occasional formula bottle here and there. I’m still breastfeeding and pumping as often as possible, but you need to eat, so formula is at the ready for the moments when I’m not.
You’re more tolerant about tummy time these days and you spent a lot of time on your play mat. (Although when you’re feeling done being on your stomach, you fling yourself to the side to roll over, like you’re trying to roll down a hill.) Just like your sister, you are content to holler happily at the plush animals dangling overhead. This morning, though, you slammed a rattle against your head and engaged in your first “crying because of little injury” jag. Real tears. It sucked. And now you are giving that rattle some major side-eye. Welcome to the world, little Guy.
Real food is also a recently introduced thing, and you’ve joined us at the table in your very own (belonged to your sister and is more than six years old but whatever – we like to save stuff) high chair. The food you’ve tried so far are pears, and that first go wasn’t very successful. Lots of confusion about what on earth a “spoon” is and also WTF “pears?” But now, a few days and many attempts later, you wait with your hands on the high chair tray all excited, ready for the SPOON! and PEARS! and the mess that follows.
In the last few weeks, you’ve gone on your first trip to New York City to meet some friends, slept over at your Grammie’s a few times, and you’ve decided that Loopy is your favorite cat because she has a fluffy tail and she walks circles around you and makes you laugh, while Siah is the one who watches you sleep from afar, not daring to go closer but keeping tabs on you all the same. The world is starting to crack open and let you peek inside, and it seems like you’re a fan.
It still amazes me, even though I’ve done this once before, how quickly the weeks change you. You used to be a little thing with half-closed eyes and unable to hold up your own head, snuggled carefully and warmly against me at all hours. Now you’re this much sturdier little man, smiling all the time and entertained by books, patty cake, and the series of foolish songs we make up and sing to you. I’m afraid to blink because you’ll be crawling, then running, then refusing to eat your eggs before school every morning.
Time goes by very quickly, and I’m trying to appreciate these moments when you are little.
Thank you for being part of our family. And for sleeping. And for the smiles that make me feel like I must be doing something right. You’re my littlest friend and I love you bunches.