As expected, you’ve changed. When does this stop? When will I wake up in the morning and you’ll be the same baby as the day before? Will I even recognize you tomorrow? Whatever you do, wherever you go, I’ll always know you by your spirit. As much as I wish babies came equipped with a pause button (maybe even a fast forward button at times), I find myself so submerged in each stage you enter. I can’t get enough of your intuitiveness and perceptions of the world around you. Summer is a whole new world for you. You’ve learned this world is far more than four walls and a ceiling. Your mind is limitless and you are so captivated by the new outdoor surroundings. I feel like I’m depriving you of valuable experiences if we stay inside too long. We are starting a whole new chapter, dare I say a new book, and watching your eyes light up with every fresh experience delights my heart more than I can say. Here’s your month Bird, it was immeasurable, unsurpassed, but mostly unbelievable.
- You had some serious diaper rash, which is where I learned the power of butt-paste and Aquaphor.
- Aquaphor also doubles as some extraordinary lip gloss. Don’t judge, just try it.
- Morning routine: wake up, pull moms hair, climb over mom,
yell for dogs, encourage dogs to jump on bed, play with dogs on bed,
eatsmear breakfast, share breakfast with dogs, play with dogs on floor, nap…sometimes with the dogs. Repeat.
- Two things in this world get you so excited that your arms and legs flail uncontrollably; Daddy coming home and hearing Nana’s voice on the phone. You. Go. Crazy.
- You’ve discovered the laundry room, and in the laundry room is the boys’ food and water. And the doggie door.
- You discovered the doggie door. …and the dog water… and the dog food. Which you ate.
- You pooped out your first inedible object. Part of a fake flowers.
- We went swimming in the hot-tub. You were butt-naked. I dunked you and you giggled. Nana didn’t like the dunking, so I signed her up for swimming lessons with you.
- Oh ya, you start swimming lessons next month. I also bought you a bathing suit. Now you have three. You’re seven months old and you have three bathing suits. I have a problem.
- The first time I put sunscreen on you, Daddy said you smelled like “Lagoon”.
- You’re a biker babe. We go on a bike ride most every day. You have a baby seat, a helmet, and a smile. The boys are jealous of your seat, but you just giggle at them as they run next to you.
- I melt every time I watch your Daddy rock you to sleep.
- Grandma and Grandpa tell you every day how adorable you are.
- Next month will be an adventure…you’re about to walk.