You are five months old today.
Grandad tells me that you woke up singing this morning. You love being sung to, so it doesn't surprise me that you'd be interested in trying to sing on your own. You've been using your voice since you were teeny-tiny, making a little "ooh" noise after each sneeze, as though to say, "Thank God that's over with!" The post-sneeze "ooh" is mostly gone now, making way for whole sentences in coo-speak, punctuated with the occasional growl.You love to use your body, too. I hold you up so you can practice standing, and you beam at me. You can roll over, but you'd love to be more mobile. I'm worried about you learning to crawl before I've had a chance to establish a good floor-washing routine.
I'd wager that nearly every mother thinks her child is smart. But you seem so smart. It scares me to think that you might be smart. I will never keep up with you if you are. I barely keep up with you now.
You know your name. You recognise the words "mama" and "milk." And you know who I am, and you're glad to see me, which makes my heart rip in half with amazement and love and I think I'm going to die a little. I can't believe you chose me, Punky.
I call you Water Baby Fishy Pie, which evolved out of "baby fishmouth" and "punkin pie" and bath time. I take you in the shower with me and you suck the water off my shoulder. I miss you if I go to the supermarket by myself, even if I feel like I need some time alone and don't want to miss you.A year ago today, I told MaMay and Grandad I was pregnant. Grandad said "That's great news," and MaMay said "I knew it!" We all sat around in the empty living room of their new house and ate burritos and talked about how I was feeling. I had no idea what an amazing little soul I was carrying.
I can't believe you've been here five months already, sweet boy. Time is flying, and I know you'll be on to the next thing before I can catch my breath.
Love,
Mommy
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