My blue-eyed, gummy-grinned girl.
You're 9 months old now.
You get up on all fours and rock. Then you push yourself away from your toys. And you cry. You're so frustrated to be going backward all the time.
Forward movement will come soon, love.
And for now, I'll keep pulling you out from under the couch.
You like to pull your sister's hair. She is not a fan.
You're attempting to eat us out of house and home. You plow through baby food. It's a good thing I like to make it at home because otherwise you'd be keeping Ella's Kitchen in business single handedly. And you love Cheerios, Mum Mums, Puffs, bits of bread, and the ends of baguettes. So, you're following after your parents in their love of all carbs.
Just wait, babe. There are cookies and cakes and donuts in your future. It's pretty special. Your sister learned about macaroons in Paris last weekend. Those are pretty amazing, too.
You love watching Caroline run amok, gnawing your toys, and pretty much anyone who smiles and talks to you. Although you've got a special place in your heart for your parents. We're thankful for that. And your Mama? Well, you still like to see her (and her... um... feeding equipment) at least once per night. But that's okay. I'm enjoying your winsome baby-ness and am thankful for the ability to care for you.
And those days where I all-but slam my face into a wall out of sheer exhaustion? (You know, because getting up every night truly and deeply hits me once every 10 days or so.) Well, on those days I'm extra thankful your dad doesn't care too much about how tidy the house is or whether or not there's hot dinner on the table. He's always good with takeout pizza, bless him.
Your approach days with curiosity, determination, and wonder. You played in the bath tonight. We have crap bath toys. But to you? That brush I got from the maternity hospital in Ohio almost 3 years ago that I use to scrub the cradle cap away? You sat and looked at that thing for a solid 3 minutes. You put the bristles in your mouth and turned it over and over. Seeing the world through your beautifully innocent and eager eyes gives me a deeper appreciation for what's good and simple and right. Colors. Shapes. Beauty all around. Much to be thankful for.
You're sensitive. You hate it when we leave you in a room alone. If you had your way about things, you'd be constantly held, and you'd sleep in our bed every night. That's not our particular style around here, but we still enjoy a good snuggle. And your dad in particular absolutely loves "wearing" you in the Ergo carrier. And you love it, too.
May God bless and keep you, Sugar Plum.