A letter to Summer three days after she turned eight months old

Dear Summer,

Three days ago, you turned eight months old. And I'm sorry, but I did not write a post about you on that day. I was really tired. Oh, wait. You're only eight months old. You don't care. Goody.

You've been crawling for a couple of weeks now, but it's nice and slow so you can't get into too much trouble. And you stand up and cruise a little (which is when you get around by holding the side of the couch or something). Sometimes it's really cute when you crawl to me and climb up my legs, just standing there, waiting to be picked up. Sometimes it's awfully inconvenient when you do that while I'm holding a knife and have raw chicken all over my hands. I haven't quite figured out what I should do at that point because you can't stand up all by yourself and it seems a little mean to walk away and let you topple over. Good thing daddy was there.

And speaking of your daddy: Summer, we need to talk about something. Your daddy loves you just as much as I do. He is just as good at holding you, and probably a little bit better at playing with you. When I give you to him so that I can go to the bathroom, you are in safe hands. There is no need to scream when I leave the room. As much as I need a break, I promise I'll always come back when I go to the bathroom.

See? Here he is, feeding you a bottle. Oh, and this picture was taken the day you turned eight months old.


What? You don't like the lighting? Neither do I.

Today I fed you blueberries. As it turns out, it's not a very good idea to give messy babies something that stains almost black. Maybe we'll save them for when I don't have to puree all your food. Or maybe not, because you didn't seem to like them that much this time. So I gave you leftover chicken and dumplings. I'm not sure if you're supposed to give babies stuff like that, but you loved it, and that's good enough for me.

Today, I tickled you for the very first time. Well, I've tickled you before, where my hands start about a foot from your tiny body and they slowly inch toward your rib cage. That, coupled with threats from the tickle monster (me), usually gets a laugh.

But today, as you were laying down on my lap looking at our new cool orange rug (or maybe the wall, I'm not sure), I just gave you a simple tickle just above your tummy. I was rewarded with a dimple in your cheek and a nice upward curl in your lips. I did it again and got a laugh. We just sat and laughed for a few minutes. It was so great.

Your favorite game is full body peek-a-boo. I love how I get a big smile and laugh out of you when I jump around a corner or hide under your chair, then back again. And you look for for me when I hide out under your high chair. You are so fun.

Well, most of the time you are fun. Sometimes, it's very difficult dealing with a baby who is teething. You're just not your happy, smiling, laughing self, and you want to be cuddled and carried a lot. I'm sorry you're so uncomfortable most of the time. I'm sure I'd be a big grump too if I was dealing with that.

I just love you so much. I am so glad to have you in my life. You are the perfect eight-month old.

Love,
Mommy