Nine months

Dear Baby E,

I’m not going to be able to call you “Baby E” for much longer. You are growing up so fast! I know every mom in the history of parenthood has said that, but seriously. It’s true.

You’ve turned into this amazing, hilarious little man without me even realizing it. You have the craziest sense of humor. Your fake laugh is hilarious. Your fascination with wheels and all things powered by an engine are never-ending. You’re incredible.

I love the way you squint your eyes at me when you think something is particularly funny, like it’s our little inside joke that nobody else could possibly understand. I love the face you make when you’re really concentrating on something – like the wheels on your Tonka truck: eyes focused, lips pursed.

I love, love, LOVE your laugh. You have the most perfect little laugh I’ve ever heard. Your laugh has the uncanny ability to wash away all of my worry, stress and pain, while simultaneously melting my heart into a big pile of mush.

I love the way you crawl. It’s not just hands, knees, hands, knees. Instead, you throw an occasional extremely-bent-leg in the mix to get your foot firmly planted on the floor, to give yourself an extra push forward. You’re very efficient.

I don’t so much love how close you’re getting to walking already. You could hold off on that for a couple months and it wouldn’t hurt my feelings any.

I love watching you grow and learn and explore. I love when you see something new, and you beeline directly to that something new. You are so inquisitive! And brave (see also: fearless)!

I love how much you love animals. All animals! You love the animal pictures I framed and hung in your room before you were born – Chipmunk! Baby bear! Baby bear! Elk! Baby deer! Baby deer! Cougar! Fox! Raccoon! You love hearing the names of the different animals. You love going to visit the cows and horses at your grandma’s. You really love the dogs. (And they love you, too! For the most part.)

You LOVE bath time. Oh, how you love bath time. Your new thing is to try to stick your face under a light stream of water, then scrunch up your face and pant (like a dog, hmm).

You’re a very opinionated little man. Impatient, and you may have gotten my temper. You might be a little on the lazy side – you did, remember, take forever and a day to finally learn how to crawl, and I think I can count on one hand the number of times I saw you roll over before you did figure out the crawling thing. Why do something when someone else will do it for you, right? That’s my boy. Efficient. We don’t waste energy around here.

I just can’t believe your next “birthday” will get you into double digits, month-wise. You’re working on 10 months! That sounds so old  to me. And then 11 months… and then a year.

And then my heart attack.

My only hope is that the next 17 years don’t go as quickly as your first.

Just kidding! I have so many other hopes for you. Like that your smiles outnumber your frowns, and your laughter outweigh your tears. I hope you understand how much I love you, even when I tell you “no.” I hope you love football as much as I want you to. I hope you grow up to respect women and all other people, that you are tolerant of other people but aren’t afraid to stand up for what is right and what you believe in.

I hope you grow up to be significantly taller than your mom.

6 thoughts on “Nine months

    1. Pah und ob mein Daumen grün ist! Vielleicht sollte ich mal Fotos von meiner selbstgezogenen Dattelpalme zeigen, oder die selbstgezogenen Marc¤ninenpflÃanzdhen. Aber dann wäre ich analog zu den Mein-Haustier-Blogs bei einem Meine-Pflanzen-Blog … nee nee. 😉

    2. “What the hell is that behind me!?!” I laughed so hard I nearly spurted coke out my nose, and with the prices my dealer charges, that’s a crime in and of itself!!PS- I love Vegas….. who is making plans for this?

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