December 2, 2007

Dear Jack, Month 6

Dear Jack,

Today you turn 6 months old. Or as I like to think of it, 18 – 24 months away from being potty trained. Changing your diapers has become a whole new experience since you started eating solid foods. We can no longer refer to what we find in your diaper as “poo” because it is too vile of a substance for a word that cute. And the gas . . . don’t get me started on the gas. You almost cleared three pews in church a few weeks ago. And I’m absolutely certain that no one could believe that an odor that foul could come from a BABY as cute as you are. Which means they probably thought it came from your dad and I. You little stinker . . .

Winter is here, my sweet boy, and I’m pretty sure you will like it about as much as I do . . . which is very little. No more evening walks down to the lake. Actually, no more walks at all. I can sense the cabin fever setting in. I have to schedule an extra 15 – 20 minutes before we leave to go anywhere to dress you in multiple layers and make sure you’re well insulated . . . this is to keep you from getting cold. This is also to avoid dirty looks from people think that little boys who aren’t dressed in many, many layers have neglectful mothers. The truth is that sometimes when I take you out of your snowsuit and you’re sweaty and a tad overheated. But I continue to put you in it because we wouldn’t want people to think I’m a bad mother, would we?

One new thing you started doing last month is exploring our faces with your hands. You reach up and feel our lips, cheeks and nose. My favorite part of this new little phase is when I pretend to eat your fingers. You usually give me the courtesy laugh. It sounds kind of like a cross between a cough and a loud, “HA!” Come to think of it, you give me the courtesy laugh a lot, Jack. When you get tired, however, this exploration of our facial features crosses over from cute to downright violent. Your eyes are closed and you can’t see what’s going on, so you just reach one arm up and start smacking our faces and clawing our mouths. To be honest, it’s what reminds me to clip your fingernails.

We’re beginning to realize how sensitive you are to the feelings of others. Empathy must be one of your strengths. When dad makes a fake crying noise, you respond with tears within seconds. When he does this (usually to entertain friends and family), I immediately snatch you up to comfort you and remind you how much more I love you than your dad does. It kills me to see you cry. While I appreciate your sensitivity, I fear that this does not bode well for any sort of future in organized sports.

You’ve developed a little bit of an attitude this month. You are beginning to figure out what you do and don’t like and you have no problem letting us know your preferences. You cry to get our attention now and I catch you making fussing noises and then looking over at me to see if I notice. When did you get so clever? I took a toy away from you last week when we were getting ready for your bath and you gave me a look as if to say, “Why do you hate me?” I don’t hate you, Jack. I love you very much. Stop being so dramatic.

You're not crawling yet, but you can pretty much scoot or roll wherever you want to go. I think it's the funniest thing ever when you lay on your belly and turn yourself in circles trying to pet Murphy. You're so fast! Dad thinks you'll be crawling in the next week or two. I think it'll be after Christmas, but I'm pretty sure that's because I'm in denial over how fast you're growing. You just take your time.



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