That’s what I tell people now when they ask how old you are. 7 months. It feels like just last week I was writing your 6 month post.
This wasn’t a month of big firsts, big developments; instead it felt a little like the quiet before the storm. We saw lots of little glimpses of the determined and insatiably curious, on-the-move, baby we have to look forward to.
Everything is fascinating to you now, everything. The sound of the vacuum cleaner, the texture of your pureed squash between your fingers…and in your hair. Today you nearly lunged clear out of your Ergo to try and grab Daddy’s bottle of Coke. On the airplane last Monday I spent thirty minutes trying to keep you from eating the stewardess’ hair. Thank goodness for the strong snaps on your cloth diapers, because nothing was more fun to you in Tokyo than ripping off your disposables before we could ever even get a clean onesie over your head.
You’ve been physically capable of scooting around the house backwards on your tummy for over two months now, but its only been in the last week or so that you seem to have realized how useful self-propelled locomotion might be in your mission to put every single object ever invented in your mouth.
On one hand, after a couple months of backwards scooting and nearly a month now of rocking on your hands and knees, the anticipation of that first forward crawl is killing us. On the other hand, we know once it happens we will have to be constantly on the move right alongside you, clearing your path of such unbearably attractive chew toys as electrical cords and the strings on my house slippers.
You are still the sweetest, cuddliest little baby boy I could ever ask for. You love kisses and tickles and burying your head in my shoulder when your tired. When you’re not actively challenging the laws of gravity, you like to sit in my lap and lean your head back against my chest while you play quietly with a toy or a book.
You also love your Daddy. Your practically glows when you are hanging out with him and you squeal and coo every night when he walks in the door. Daddy makes up all of your favorite games and its fun to watch how he can keep you captivated with anything from a container of rice puffs to an in-flight magazine.
You especially love Daddy’s “Near and Far” game and any version of “keep away.” It’s fun to watch your eyes light up at the challenge of grabbing whatever it is we are playing with. Your hands are quick and you’re quite good at grabbing for just about anything. You keep us on our toes.
You are still no fan of mushy food but you like gumming on cucumber and carrot sticks and even chunks of frozen bread. We’re looking forward to America where we won’t worry so much about you breaking out in hives from the pesticides.
Your attention span is somewhat amazing to me these days. As long as I’m nearby you will happily sit and play with the same toy or block for 20 or 30 minutes at a time. Granted, I can’t go anywhere for those 20 or 30 minutes and should I dare pull out a notebook, an iphone or some knitting to pass the time, you are immediately done playing with your toys and climbing over my legs to gnaw on the piece of paper or ball of yarn in my hands; but even so, it’s something.
Along with awaiting that first crawling step and the first American farmers’ market vegetables, we’re also still waiting for teeth…and some more hair. But seriously though, these teeth! Where are they? I always knew motherhood would teach me greater patience but I always thought I’d learn patience from, you know, the actual parenting part of this mamahood gig–not by waiting for your first tooth to break through!
Will, I joke about your attempts to eat plastic and your lack of hair, but really, truly, your Dad and I go to bed every night thinking about how lucky we are to have you in our lives. You still are, and always will be, the best thing that ever happened to us.
All my love,