Monday, September 5, 2011

Six months.

Six months.

Dear George,

Six months. Half a year. I don't even want to know how many days, so I just won't do the math on that one. Tack on three days because that is how late I am with this post. You are growing faster than I can keep up. All I want to do is thoroughly enjoy you, but silly stuff like washing bottles and taking showers and spending time with other people so I feel human gets in the way. If you could slow down on the the growing thing, then maybe I would have time to do half as much as I would like to do.

Rolling machine is what we call you these days, ever since last week when you started rolling across the living room, down the hall, pretty much anywhere you could access. You first learned to roll back when you were three months old, but found it utterly boring until recently. This has made me realize you are becoming MOBILE, and my world is ENDING, because this house is so, so, so not baby-proofed. Oh man, the baby proofing that needs to happen before you start crawling.

You have not really gotten the hang of sitting up. Whether it is not interesting enough or that bending at the waist hurts your belly too much, I haven't quite figured out. Sorry. I will try to develop my psychic capabilities so we can avoid communications snafus like this in the future. But, whatever. As with rolling, you will do it when you please.

When strangers meet you, the first thing they remark on is how cute you are. This always makes you smile. Their second comment is how alert you are. I would have to start counting on my toes to number all of the absolute strangers who have said, "Wow, he's so alert!" Now if you can just keep paying attention when you are in high school, that would be great.

The people more familiar with you have somehow managed to become even more possessive of you. When my parents call me, they usually ask how you are before they ask about their own precious daughter. THAT is the power of your cuteness. When Mammaw walks in the house, she shouts, "Where is my perfect grandson?" And when your daddy comes home from work, he picks you up, hugs you close, and goes, "MY baby." You love it. Meanwhile I wonder if you will grow up to be as territorial as your father.

This is the month you started to really enjoy being read to. I love reading, and I loved it even more when I was a child, so the gift I would love to be able to give you most is an appreciation of reading. It made me a better, more interested, and more interesting person. (Plus it gave my parents extra quiet time, ain't gonna lie.) You stare at the pages and squeal in delight as I get to the exciting parts. ("Five, four, three, two, one, BLAST OFF!") Or laugh hysterically at whatever it is you find funny in that little noggin of yours. ("Wednesday, ZOOP!")

Solids were a big thing with you this month. Mammaw was over for lunch one day, and she pointed out that you were following our cups as we drank out of them. So I offered you some water, and you went ballistic. You have gotten good at holding cups on both sides with your hands, and you drink without spilling too much. The only downside is that we can't have our glasses within reaching distance of you now unless we're ready to help you with it. We also started you on your first non-cereal food: pears. We did the baby-led weaning thing, and you seem to enjoy gnawing away on the pear slices.

The six month checkup was on your birthday on Friday, and it went really well. The doctor agrees that your belly may disagree with you sitting up, so score one for Mommy intuition on that. Your weight is good, and at the highest percentile it's ever been in your life. And so is your HEIGHT! You are 28 1/8 inches long, and that puts you in the 95%, which just blows our minds. The only close relative you could have inherited that from is my father, so thank you Dad.

You and I tried to get into a groove this month, but then we entered a period where you started fighting naps. All the naps. Of which you only had two a day to begin with, and those naps are crucial to keeping you cute and alert. It has...not been fun. We and persevere and ask you not to tell your daddy how much I curse in front of you and tinker some more, and sometimes you take two naps, and sometimes you just take one. On the days you take two naps, I text your father in a frenzy of sheer joy. On the days you only take one nap, we pray to the all mighty baby deities that it will be at least a three hour nap. Otherwise, you are inconsolable in the evening, and it breaks our hearts. I figure it is one of the first in many ways you will break our hearts over the years to come. Great start, buddy!

Love you lots and lots (even when you refuse to nap),


Chilling on the pool steps.

He's also started drinking water from my cup. Why you growing up George?

Sitting up like a big boy in the grocery cart.

First time out in his big boy stroller.

George and Dad.

Me and Mister George.

Pears are yummy.

Tummy time.







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