You are seven months old. And as much as you’ve woven yourself into the fabric of our lives quite seamlessly, its still hard to believe it’s been quite that long. But you belie your age with the way you can move from one end of the room to the other in search of your
plush toys purchased just for you the one unvaccumed piece of lint on the kitchen floor. The way you now turn to your father and squeal abba, and this whole crawling business? fascinating. I know I’ve seen it before, but its impressive, my ability to forget some things. For example, I had no recollection that learning to crawl required some impressive planks. There’s a lot I can do better than you, but on planks, you got me beat kid. That, and we need to babyproof. Stat.
You took your first vacation this month with us. We went to Charleston and you had a blast. Infact, you partied all night long. In your crib. Which, well, yawn. But sleepiness aside, it was a pleasant surprise to travel with you. Charleston was a great starter-trip for our family of four since it’s a city where the whole point is to take it slow, windowshop, and take in the courtyards and gazebos. Despite hotel rooms not quite as spacious as they once were, we had fun. You had fun.
We also got season passes to the aquarium this month and so begin our weekly trips to see the fish, sharks, and whales. In full disclosure, these tickets were purchased for your older brother’s amusement and education since you’re a baby, however, I am amazed at how amazed you are by it all. We sit you both down infront of the viewing tank and you flap your arms and kick your legs and shriek as the fish swim by.
|If you could talk, I’m pretty sure this photo says Fish. Mama. Mama. Mama. Fish.|
This is also the month you and your brother began taking bubble baths at the same time and the first month that you two actively played together. Because you splash. You might be an Olympic champion in splashing. And your brother? He loves splashing too. And so you splashed each other and you squealed, and laughed until your stomachs ached, and while I had quite a pool to wade through to clean you, and my bathroom up, it was worth the pleasure to watch brotherhood unfold.
This is the month of expanding your foodie horizons. You love sweet potatoes and find carrots interesting, but the meal that stole your heart is pears with a dash of oatmeal cereal and rice, mushed just so with a helping of cooked peas. It’s fascinating to see your preferences develop. And speaking of eating, you’re so chill when we go out to eat. I thought I was going to eat out of foam boxes, ordering in, until you were fifteen years old, but you’re so good about it, even when I took you both, alone, to grab lunch with my friends [one of whom I suspect will be ditching me soon in favor of becoming your buddy] and you grinned and hung out and gave me hope that perhaps restaurants may once again be in our future perhaps.
It’s been over half a year of Musa goodness and try as I might to find the right words to express it I know I never will because love is something that words can only help you extrapolate on but something you can never fully quantify or qualify. All I can say is, I love you. I love the way you smile. The way your eyes light up at a particular delight. I love your fat feet and ample thighs. I love your soft hair. I love your full-on cackles. I love your studied concentration when trying to navigate a food item into your mouth. I even love your soft plaintive cries so different from your brother’s once upon a time, so full of emotion, so very indicative of you. And though I don’t love how tired I can be when you refuse to sleep, I love your head resting on mine, your chubby arms gripping me– no matter what, above all, beyond everything, I love that you are here.