Eight months, with love.

You are eight months old, sweet girl, and you are our greatest joy. 

You love sitting, rolling and screeching, and have started declaring, “Dadadadada” every so often, along with “guhguh” and lots of gargling and shrieks. You would really like it if your legs cooperated in crawling, but for now, you tend to just scoot yourself backwards, culminating in a frustrated logroll.

You are a huge fan of your outdoor swing and the activity jumper you inherited from Vanessa. You enjoy time in your high chair and always are cooperative on car trips.

You laugh with such awkward joy when daddy plays silly games with you, sometimes as surprised as we are by the sound of your giggles, and you are curious about everything like a tiny exploring scientist.

You’re an astute observer, incredibly intrigued by your surroundings and whatever you can touch and put in your mouth. You love being outdoors and touching different textures like grass or wooden posts. 

You love all food. All of it. You haven’t turned your nose up at anything, although your favorites seem to be pears and avocado. You are starting to try to feed yourself which is messy and adorable. You suck down those pouches like nobody’s business. 

The dogs are quite fond of licking your face aggressively, to which you close your eyes and look utterly bewildered, like you were randomly and inexplicably thrown in a dunk tank. You’ve edged closer to tail pulling which we fear will be a tricky rite of paw-sage.

You are sleeping about 11 hours a night in your crib. We never thought you’d warm up to it,  but as soon as you figured out how to get on your side or your belly, you were content. Your pacis are required for sleep most of the time.

You still fall asleep in my arms and I am so thankful for that. You’re extra snuggly when you don’t feel well which has a distinct bittersweetness.

Not a day goes by where I don’t feel a profound and magical difference in the world and in myself, because of your existence. 

We’re trying to do it all right, Lila Bear, and probably succeeding about half the time, but making up the difference with love. 

  

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2 thoughts on “Eight months, with love.

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