You turned 6 months-old on Sunday and you’re lucky our weekend was so busy or your momma would have been an emotional wreck. Not because I think “time is flying by” (you’ll learn that I STRONGLY DISLIKE when people say that), but just because it was your first 1/2 birthday and that is very special to me.
I am exhibiting all those disturbing signs of a first-time mom/mum like total and utter love and devotion. I figure by the time a sibling of yours rolls around, I am going to be a little more even-keeled- who knows, maybe I’ll even ship the next one right off to daycare while I pursue my long-lost dream of becoming a celebrated accordion player. You never know. But for now, you’re safe with me. And the past month has found us sharing more wonderful adventures.
Let’s see… well, of course there were all the requisite “firsts”. First Thanksgiving. First Hanukkah. First of some English holidays I am too lazy to remember. Oh yes and all those “first” foods. You are, so not surprisingly, a champion eater. In fact, you become quite surly when the food is not shoveled into your mouth fast enough. You border on irate when the peas don’t taste like pear as you were expecting. I understand, my son. I too am an overeater. Always have been. And so we’ll stick together and make fun of your daddy who sometimes accuses me of putting too much food on his plate. You can tell him there are worse crimes in the world. Like oh I don’t know: trying to make out with an iPhone application. I will explain that one day.
For now though, your prodigious eating means two important things: (1) you forgo sleeping through the night lest you miss a tasty meal in the wee hours, and (2) you are ginormous. Okay, not ginormous. It turns out there are babies bigger than you. Quite shocking, really. But you certainly do illicit attention for your size. Lots of people ask me how old you are (an easy icebreaker so you can’t blame them). And then when I respond I wait because right on cue they will exclaim, “oh my goodness, he is so big!” If I wasn’t so impressed at people’s abilities to match size and age, I would be taking them to task for such generic conversational abilities. But it turns out, this is a skill I do not possess. I am always in danger of asking someone with a 9 year-old how she is enjoying kindergarten. But so, your size. People wonder what I am feeding you. Are weight gainer supplement shakes bad?
Jonah, you’re so human these days. So interested in people and objects and you’ll play with any toy we put in front of you. Or paper. Or anything really. In fact, a virtue of babies is that packaging is always so much more interesting than contents. A money-saving tip that has been duly noted by me. For Hanukkah I was definitely tempted to give you eight envelopes. I have noticed that sometimes you even eye my bra like you’re trying to figure out the physics of the clasps. Look, that’s fine. I’m going to let that slide for the next 6 months. After that, you’re going to want to table that newly-acquired skill until your first girlfriend at age 18. Although by then the world will have invented something better than bras. Like equality or something.
And so we are approaching the end of 2009. It turns out it was easily one of the best years of my life. And daddy is off the hook with Christmas presents because, it’s true: you’re the only one I need. (I did get some new jeans too. Looking good is almost as precious as baby snuggles.) You’re my champion eater and smiler and giggler and roller and player and pooper and hugger and drooler and babbler and hand-clasper and crier and sleeper and spitter and you’re so curious and smart and bright-eyed and handsome and funny and perfect.
Love you my mush.