Posted by: emjb | May 14, 2006

Six Months


Well, little boy, it’s your half-birthday this month. And while the whole reason I write these posts is so I can remember all that you did later, this month it got really hard to keep up with you.

Let’s see; you can sit up almost by yourself, something you just woke up being able to do one day. You continue to talk “bababBAba” but now and then you sprinkle in some “ma’s” and “da’s” too. You like to snack on your own toes and look adorable while you do so. You have two choppers on the bottom gum that you like to show off. You don’t know what a chicken is, but chicken noises are the funniest thing you ever heard. You try to imitate your dad when he does the Vulcan “live long and prosper” hand thingy, and do surprisingly well, not knowing that you are dooming yourself to geekdom. And this week, all of a sudden, eating from a spoon got more interesting. I see a lot of oatmeal and pureed fruit in your immediate future.


You still have the horrible horrible blocked tear duct you’ve had since your first month that gives you a pus-crusted eye, and thus makes it impossible for us to Culkin you into child stardom. Oh well. The doctor tells us it’s likely to go away, but I really hate cleaning it every day, and you hate when I do, so it can’t heal fast enough for me.

You move your toes and rotate your feet almost all the time you are awake, and can push up on your fat little legs for a few minutes at a time. I think you’ll crawl first, but I’m betting you will move on to walking as soon as you can manage it. You just (like this week) started making pincher movements with your forefinger and thumb, meaning that eating your own Cheerios isn’t far off either. Maybe you’ll be like your cousin and drop them down your diaper while you walk around, saving them for later.

I can’t believe you’ll be walking. I can’t believe that this chattery, flirty, gap-toothed, solid-food-eating baby is the same one I brought home from the hospital. What’s next, senior prom?

I was so anxious when you came home, even apart from all the depression I was going through anyway. I had never done the baby thing before, and the potential to mess you up seemed limitless. Tightrope walking without a net. And now I don’t feel that way, though technically, I could still mess you up but good. But six months of just day to day taking care of you has worn most of the edges off. I’m not complacent about you, but I have a little more faith in my ability to handle you. And your dad is so good with you, just like I knew he would be.

We’re doing ok here, in this little lull before crawling/walking/eating solids really kicks in. It’s been a heck of a climb, but the view is pretty cool.


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