Dear A, 9 months old

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9 months ago, you arrived in the world with pink cheeks and a voice. No one needed to give your bottom a gentle slap to get you to cry. Your lungs knew exactly what to do.

Even with that kind of entrance, you've been the happiest of babies from day one. It's true that you know what you want. You express yourself with radiant clarity. But you do it with such a lively and lovely disposition. Everyone that meets you falls in love with your sparkling baby blues, your ultra-long eyelashes, your plump cheeks, and your nearly bald head. Not to mention your winning, ever-present smile.

You eat everything we eat now - salmon, lamb, blueberries, smoothies, scrambled eggs, butternut squash soup, and whole wheat toast. And you're still nursing like a champ, during the day and all through the night.

In the early months, you slept all through the night. Now, you awake, and call out with a tiny voice. "Mama," you bleat it like a little lamb and I run to you. Pitter-patter, my feet across the hall, to where you sleep on a twin mattress on the floor. We cuddle in close. Just you and I.

Like your sisters, your favorite place is anywhere outside, anywhere NEW. It's clear that we've passed on the travel bug to all of you. You want adventures to far away places. You want to breathe in the outdoor air - regardless of the temperature. You cry when we come inside from a walk.

Aside from "mum" and "dad-dad-dad", your words are an irresistible jumble of coos and babbles. I know you have great things to say though. You often hold your hand in the air like a famous queen about to give a speech.

I affectionately refer to this season as the "danger age" because you are both overwhelmingly curious and surprisingly quick. We have but to turn our backs and you'll be halfway across the house, sorting through the cupboards. In addition to speed-crawling, you can stand (with and without assistance) and climb up stairs (SO glad we don't have a two-story).

At 9 months, you are beautiful, strong, capable, and opinionated. If you end up being the President, I won't be a bit surprised (although that seems like an awfully stressful career choice). Whatever you do, you can be sure of this: I will always be the first one to give you a standing ovation.

©2024 Stephanie Sheaffer - All Rights Reserved
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