Monday, December 11, 2006


Dear A,

You are already 9 months old and I'm only now writing you a monthly letter; I planned to start when you were born but life keeps getting in the way. It's not quite the way I had planned things to go, but there you are. That's life. sorry. I can't honestly say this kind of thing won't happen to you again throughout your life, so you might as well get used to it now. Mama disappoints again.

You continue to be alternately sunny and serious. You go about your day with a fire in your belly, there's no question about it. Since you started standing in September (the 27th to be exact), you've suddenly discovered a whole new world exists approximately 8" above your head. The coffee table is an endless source of joy for you. I don't know if it's because you can now cruise a complete circuit around it or that there's generally something you can pull down and gnaw on, but it figures large in your life right now. Your sister enjoys sitting on it, so it clearly posesses some magic invisible to adult eyes.

Crawling was your next big feat, just under a month later. You developed an odd combination of scooting and butterfly; mostly it looked like you were doing the worm and warming up for a breakdancing competition. You have an unhealthy obsession with my plants. the begonia quakes in fear when you heave into view. It's great that you want to help me remove the dead leaves, but I'd love it if you could, you know, let the live ones stay that way.

You occasionally stand on your own, which both pleases and horrifies me. I see how happy it makes you, but in the back of my mind all I can do is hope that you take your sweet time walking. Really, it's not all it's cracked up to be. There's the falling! And the tripping! Perp walked fairly early, though, so I'm busy girding my loins and trying to put (more) things out of your reach. It's more difficult than you might imagine.

You have started to sleep more or less through the night. It is probably the greatest give you can give us right now; if only I could bring myself to accept it and go to bed at a reasonable hour.

You do a mean Bruce Willis imitation, pooching your mouth up like a teeny butthole and looking winsome. I don't consider BW winsome in any way but it looks good on you. So far, then, you've done baby goat, Joe Cocker, Buddy Hackett, and Bruce. I can't wait for the next stage. De Niro? Regan?

You continue to adore your sister with a passion that borders on unseemly. Everything she does is a source of fascination. Watching her exercise her ability to walk, talk, and maniuplate objects sends you into paroxysms of joy. You are also growning quite fond of your papa. Last night when he came home from work, you "ooOOOh-OOOoooOOOh"ed until he took you from me and you were able to bond, guy-style. I do feel badly for you that all other daytime occupants of the house are female. If you think it's hard now, wait 10 years. You. have. no. idea.

Your cutest new skill is to clap like a madman when I shriek, "Yaaaaaaaaaay!" It's insanely cute and I'm pretty sure you know it. When you bust it out for our friends, they keel over with cute overload. Add in the fact that you now have just enough hair that small bits of it will stand straight out from your head if you smear them with food, and I'm a little concerned that someone will experience heart failure when you turn on the charm.

When you get hungry, which is all the time lately, you have an odd snuffling in and out of your nose habit, combined with the Bruce Willis face. Then you furrow your brow (you were born with a frown on your face, so this is nothing new to you) and "Oooooohhhh OOOhhhhOOOOOHHHH," until I stuff your face with food. You're especially fond of prunes, which is a good thing, because you need them. Daily. In large amounts. You also love green beans and squash. Fruit? Other than prunes? Not so much. You seem to be more inclined to eating veggies, which is fine by me. Maybe you'll be interested in gardening with me when you're older. I hope you both love to dig your hands in the soil and watch your plants bear fruit. I'm finding that raising children is a bit like planting a garden, if you will pardon my hideously cliched comparison. You have no control over which seeds will take root, but you nurture them all as best you can; once the seedlings are established, you give them all the care you can and hope for the best. You really can't do much more. So we hope for the best for you and your sister, and we give you the best care we can. The rest is up to you.

1 comment:

craftydabbler said...

This is so sweet. He has a wonderful smile. I love the picture with his sister. And the close up sleeping picture, oh, it reminds me of when my now three year old was that size. They are so special.