You turn nine months old today. You’ve now been living in our house for as long as you were living in my belly. The trial period is over. We’ve decided to keep you.
You’re finally catching on to the whole sleeping thing. You’ve figured out how to fall asleep on your own (though there is still some crying). This past Tuesday and Wednesday you took a THREE HOUR NAP each afternoon. Your dad and I were stunned. To be honest, it worried me a little. I checked on you at least once an hour to make sure you were ok. I found myself wishing that you would just wake up so I could hug you! I never realized that I would miss you if you slept more than 45 minutes. On Thursday, when we heard you waking up from what I was beginning to think was turning into some sort of seasonal hibernation, your dad and I (literally) raced down the hall to be the first one into your bedroom. Dad won, of course. I’ve always been so jealous of parents with babies that take lengthy naps, but your dad and I could barely keep ourselves from waking you up when you were sleeping so long. I think we’ve been spoiled by your sleeping habits.
You’ve changed so much this month, but it’s really hard to pinpoint exactly what it is that is so different about you. You’re taller and heavier (you’re now wearing 18 – 24 month clothing). You have a look in your eyes that has let us know that you’re beginning to think about walking (you actually stood on your own for a few seconds this week). You’ll say “bye-bye” and wave (when you feel like it) and you can say “mama” and “dada,” though you usually refer to both of us as “dada.” Actually, you call Murphy & Emma “dada” too. Perhaps you don’t yet know what that word means. .0.3030..00eQu y thgnv hn
You love they keyboard on our computer (as evidenced by the end of the previous paragraph). You love Cheerios. You love cupboard doors and drawers. You love (taking all of your) books (off the shelf and spreading them out all over the floor). Also, the tables have turned a little this month in that you love to make us laugh. If we start laughing at something you do, you get this proud smile on your face and you’ll continue doing it until we stop laughing or until you get bored.
You love to chase Murphy. When we get you out of your crib, you give us a quick hug and kiss and then immediately scan the room for Murphy. Your favorite thing to do is to pin her down and try to put her entire head in your mouth. Don’t be fooled, though. Murphy loves it. When she hears you stirring from a nap, she usually beats us to your bedroom door and sits there waiting for her friend to come out and play. At least once a day she drops her ball in front of you and looks at you as if she is thinking, “Haven’t you learned to throw yet?”
You also threw your first tantrums this month, all three of which were a result of being told that you may not climb into the dishwasher. They were complete with falling onto the floor and kicking. They didn’t last long because during the first one I grabbed my camera and started snapping pictures. For the second two, your dad and I just kind of watched and giggled about how silly you looked. You can get your frustration out with tantrums, but they won’t get you very far with us. And, I promise you that the bathtub is a much more efficient way of getting clean.
Your dad starts baseball practices in a few weeks and you and I will be spending a lot more alone time together in the evenings. He made a comment last summer that if he were teaching, or working somewhere that wouldn't allow him to spend a lot of time with you during the days he would give up coaching. That surprised me because he loves coaching baseball . . . but I think we both know that he loves you more. Dad left for a conference on the other side of the state earlier tonight and you won’t see him until Wednesday! I’ve been teasing him about whether or not you’ll remember him when he gets back. Based on your reaction every time he walks into the room, I don’t think he needs to worry too much about that. We both need him a lot. I hope you grow up to be as good of a husband and father as he is someday . . . but we’ll leave that for a future letter.
I love you all the time!
Mama
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