This week, you are ten months old.
There is no way for you to wrap your head around this number, so let me do it for you in a visual way. Ten months ago you were this:
Go ahead, make sense of it. I'll wait.
This month has been all about movement for you. Crawling(ish), scooting(ish), and reaching, reaching reeeeeeaching for things to put in your mouth.
I call you Mister Squirmy-Wormy often, because that's what you are.
The squirmiest of worms.
You're starting to vocalize more. Some 'Ma-ma', some 'Ba-ba', but mostly 'Da-da' (of course). And lots, I mean LOTS of laughing. Particularly with your sister:
I'm sure, before I know it, I'm going to have to remind you often just how much you love Anna. But for now, you have no problem letting the world know. And the best news is that the feeling is mutual:
We do need to talk about sleep. I can tell you that there are several people reading this blog who are sick me complaining about sleep, so I won't go into too much detail. Let's just say that, to date, you have not slept through the night. (That is not including the particular sleep issues we are dealing with with your sister.). Momma is tired. Momma is cranky. Momma will buy you a car when you're sixteen if you would please start sleeping through the night.*
(*Statement may or may not be true, depending on grades, funds, and your willingness to promise me that I will be the only woman in your life until after you've finished grad school.)
Still, I maintain that I hit the baby jackpot with you. This week you had a virus that may or may not have been Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease. (Remember that lovely post??) Did you complain? Did you stop laughing even for one day?
No. And if I could wish one thing for you in life, it's the ability to do just that. To look at all the craziness surrounding you and see the good things. Smile, despite anything. A good reminder this week, for all of us.
I love you so much, my ten-month-old Mister Mister. You keep me smiling, too.