7 Months

Today, sweet baby girl, you turn 7 months old. Remember back when I thought that 3 months old sounded old, when I felt like it marked the threshold of infant and baby? I have the same feeling today, the same sense that we have crossed some kind of boundary. Seven months. More than half a year. I know you're still a baby, but you're not a baby baby anymore. Not a little baby. You're a sweet, funny, energetic, happy, delightful baby. A baby who is more and more, every day, developing your own little personality. And more and more, every day, I am totally head over heals in love with you.

One of the most delightful developments of the last month is the evolution of your sense of humor. You are not, have never been, a giggly baby. It takes a lot of work to make you laugh. Your dad can do it best by smooching your right shoulder and arm pit--I think his stubble is the key to tickling you just right to get that awesome cackle of a laugh. But lately you have been cracking yourself up. Sometimes it's in the car on the way home from daycare. You sit back there and sing and talk to yourself, and sometimes, on the best days, you laugh. I have no idea what you are thinking about that makes you laugh, what adventure or silliness from your day at school you are recalling--but to hear you laughing all on your own back there makes my day. Another time you burped particularly loud after eating and then laughed at the sound you had just made. You love being tossed high in the air, and the higher we toss you, the louder you cackle. But the best is when you smile and laugh at your dad and me when we are laughing at you. It's like you know that whatever it is you are doing is entertaining us, and baby girl, you dig that. You watch us laugh, grin delightedly, and then do whatever it is again. My favorite example of this is a couple of weeks ago when you kept trying to pick up a freckle on my chest. I started laughing at your intense concentration of picking up that darn freckle, which made you look up at me, smile, and then try to pick up the freckle again, looking back at me quickly to see if you could make me laugh again. You, my dear, are quite the ham.

You are really working on your hand skills, including clapping, waving, and banging things together. You now pat me on the back when I carry you around, as if you are constantly telling me, "Good job, Mom!" I love it. You are a pro at clapping your hand against our outstretched hand, and you are working so hard on being able to clap your own hands together. Right now you holler (your version of "YAY!" which is what we say when we clap) and wave your arms up and down, hitting yourself in the tummy. So. Cute. You have discovered that you can curl your fingers and wrist, and are starting to wave at yourself, the way you see us waving at you. I can't wait until you can actually wave goodbye. You have also discovered that when you hit things together, they make noise! So now you are constantly banging toys together, against the wall, the table, a plastic bowl, and sometimes your head (that doesn't make noise, and you usually end up hurting yourself and holding your arms out to us for comfort and snuggles, which we are always too happy to oblige).

Another cool development to see is that you have started to develop an opinion. You have a favorite bath time turtle, and can pick this particular turtle out of the group of five bath time turtles that float around the tub with you. I can hold out two toys and you will look at them both before actually picking which one you want to play with at the moment. You also have a very strong opinion about the foods you eat. While in the beginning you took to solids without missing a beat, the more foods we try, the more we are discovering foods that you are really not a fan of. When you get one of those foods--you are currently not a fan of peas or zucchini--you let the food sit on your tongue and proceed to dramatically gag and make the most horrified, disgusted faces. It is quite hilarious, and you are quite the little drama queen. But when you find a food you like, you wait patiently for it with an open mouth . . . unless we are slow getting that spoon to you, in which case you squeal at us as if to say, "Focus, people!! I want more! Hurry up!"

You have not yet started crawling, which I have to admit I'm a little thankful for. I like that I can put you down somewhere to play with your toys and you still stay there. (Unfortunately you are also figuring out that we can put you down somewhere and you have to stay there, whereas we do not. You suddenly don't like to be in the living room while we are in the kitchen cooking dinner. You yell at us until we come and pick you up and love on you, making you magically perfectly content once again. I have started cooking dinner one-handed, and I think you like seeing all the different activities that go on up close and personal.) You are able to get the things you want though. You can spin yourself all around when laid on your tummy, and if you are sitting upright and there is a toy within reach, you can fold yourself in half--putting chest, chin, face straight down onto the floor in between your legs--grab it, and then sit right back up. If we stand you up and put you next to something, you are able to hold onto it and stay standing. And you look around with a big smile on your face, as if you are quite proud of yourself.

You are putting together all kinds of different syllables and saying things that sound like real words now--Mom, Ma-ma, bubble, and of course, your ever favorite da-da-da-da. This morning I think I heard the "n" sound for the first time!

Your hair is getting longer and is starting to develop the tell-tale curls that suggest that you may have your momma's hair texture, if not color. Your daddy loves your little curls. I think he's pointed them out to me seventeen times already. If you don't already know it, I think he's pretty smitten with you. The other fun thing about your longer hair is that you are starting to get bed head--whereas before your hair was always pretty much perfect all the time, now when you wake up in the morning it is messed up and sticking out every which way. Honestly it may be even cuter that way than it was when it was short and smooth and perfect.

You love the swing your daddy hung on our back porch. You love your sippy cup we give you at dinner time, and it is so cute to watch you grab the little handles on either side and drink from it yourself like a big girl. And of course, you love, love, love your mom and dad.

And we love, love, love you.

You make our lives funnier. Brighter. Sweeter. Happier. And filled with love in every corner of every second.

Happy seven months, baby girl.

Love,
Mom