Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Pretty princess

Dearest Bug,

So here's the story.  I counted today, and you're a little more than 41 weeks old.  That means you really have been out in the world as long as you were flipping around in my belly.  I don't know really what to think or say about that, so we'll just move on. 

I suppose you are very much like most babies at 9 and a half months old.  We spread out colorful, shiny toys in every direction, and your response is always the same.  You glance around for the briefest instant, immediately dismiss each toy one at a time as far beneath your standards, and then squint your eyes just slightly as you stare all the way across the room.  With the wooden Noah block hanging out of your mouth, you crawl at lightening speed toward the tiniest piece of dark fuzz or old Cheerio in the carpet that you somehow spied from yards away.  Your chubby little fingers very carefully pinch the offending fluff, lift it for examination, and immediately ram it deep into your mouth.  I'm not sure if you realize this, but that's not a particularly safe habit. 

You pull yourself up on furniture and scoot along the couch to earn yogurt snacks from Kimmi and me.  You sing yourself to sleep, and you say both "ma ma ma ma" and "da da da da" with equal finesse, though you don't really assign them to any specific person.  I leave you in the living room to grab a bottle for you, and in the next second, I turn around to see you crawling around the corner after me with a sly, toothy grin on your face.  (And a fuzz ball in your mouth, probably.)

Speaking of teeth.... dude.  Six.  You have six.  Can we take a break for a bit?  And also, those chompers are sharp!  You probably noted that today when you sat down a little too hard in bed and bit your tongue.  Hate to break it to you, but that happens from time to time even as a grown up, and it's equally as excruciating.

Bug, maybe you're bored of hearing it, but I'll never tire of saying it.  I. Love. You.  Tonight, I picked your sleepy body out of your carseat to carry you inside.  You buried your face into my neck, and since you so rarely sleep in my arms, I drank in the moment.  We sat in the chair in your room with your heavy body long across my lap.  Your warm breath smelled like milk and sleep, and the curls on the back of your head were damp with sweat. 

Someday, I'll help you slip your arms into a backpack to send you to your first day of school.  Someday, we'll pack your pillowcase with treats and pajamas for your first sleep over.  I'll help you curl the back of your hair for your first date (while Daddy breathes through a full-blown anxiety attack in the back room, of course.)  Someday, we'll buy you a long white dress and put flowers in your hair. And someday, if you are very, very lucky, I will watch you rock your own baby to sleep.

But not yet.

Today you are still my baby. 

I love you to the moon and back, princess child.
-Mama


2 comments:

Liv said...

I can't wait until Aspen is bigger.

brian said...

Uncle B will be there on that first date to lay down the law!!!