8 months

Wow, you’re already 8 months old. How did that happen so quickly? As I type you are standing, yes STANDING!!! in the middle of the living room. You have figured out how to get the top half of your body centered above your hips now and you push yourself up to your feet, hold your hands out in front of you, perhaps for balance, and then you yell at me to look at you. Then you do the happy jiggle which usually lands you on your bum again, but you get right back up. Sitting up is so last month. So is crawling. You would dearly love to be able to walk.

You can’t talk yet, except to say, “muumumumumumumummmmm,” or “dadadadadadadadadada,” but you have perfected the use of the raspberry. You use it the way grown ups use cuss words, with great vehemence. If you wake up in the middle of the night and you are not happy about it, you sit up and go, “BTHHHHHP!!!” over and over again before breaking into a wail. You also use it when we take away something you think we should let you eat, or we stop you from going places. You tell us off by yelling, “You bthhp and bththp and bthhping bthhpers.”

I have not had such a content baby. You spend hours just quietly hanging out on the floor and I sometimes forget that you are awake because you’re so quiet. That happens most often when you find table scraps to chew on. Your not at all impressed with the rice porridge and bananas I’m feeding you. You’ve been supplementing your diet with spicy black bean and chili chicken, cheese, dog food, spicy ground beef and rice noodles. All found under the table before I have a chance to clean up. You have now figured out that you siblings are the messiest eaters and so you will wait under the table while they eat, like a dog, and pounce on the morsels that fall from their forks. Yesterday it was whole cheese tortellini that you managed to swallow before I could fish it out. I’m thinking we need a dog, just to give you some competition.

I love that your hair is starting to turn red. I was born with red hair and I like the idea of having a mini me around. Finally a baby that looks like me. It’s as fascinating as having children who look so different.

Other babies that come to visit us and like to just flop on the floor are falling victim to your relentless energy. You like to crawl up to them and kiss them, though it looks like you’re trying to bite their chin off, and then you pet and pull and try to stuff them into your mouth whole. Perhaps you mistake mauling people for affection because that’s what your sister does to you all the time.

You are always happy, always bright-eyed, and full of life. Your daddy has nicknamed you Squinty, because if you opened your eyes open any wider they might fall out. Don’t worry, you’ll understand sarcasm when you’re older. He’s constantly saying to you, “Don’t squint so much, open your eyes a little more.” You have no idea what he’s saying, but he’s talking to you so you stare at him wide-eyed, and smile, and bounce on your knees in appreciation while saying, “Da!”.

You’re fun to have around. I love you.

Your Mama

*I’ve been trying to take a standing picture to share, but my camera is too stupid slow to capture it yet. I’ll post later if I get one.