You turned 8 months on mother's day. You roll with the punches. You are happy. you SIT. Not reliably, but you do. You started at 7 months so we can claim that. You smile. you laugh. YOU LOVE MOM. A lot. I write this because you may not admire me as much one day. If I walk by you and don't pick you up. You cry. You refuse a bottle. You refuse a cup. You hate pureed food. You clearly know that you are too big for that. This weekend you chowed down on guacamole and refried beans. That's your Texas showing.
I can't find our 6-9 month clothes so you are shoved in some 3-6 monthers and some bigger. You are too big for some and too small for others. You are 6 months gestational age. You are probably more advanced than a 6 month old. Maybe? Surprisingly, I have now had 3 babies and I can't remember the important milestones. I keep looking at Griffin and our friends that are a few months older than him that are ALL going to kindergarten in August and think of how much happens in that first few years. How much changes. How a baby who is 4 months old is so different from a newborn, but when they are 4 and 5 there are not any differences.
He is such a dream. He is more than I could have ever imagined he could be. We spent so long being so worried that it seemed like he would never arrive or would never leave the NICU. Look at you. THRIVING. You listened to my prayers. You are a miracle.
You don't love sitting. You love standing. You are handsy. You grab. You love puffs and mum mums. You love your brothers. When we walk down the stairs and Meyer REFUSES to let me help him, you laugh and laugh. It takes like 15 minutes. Not sure how you think it's that funny.
You weigh about 17 lbs. I carry you and hold you all of the time. You could not be more adored. By everyone.
I love you. Can't live without you. I need you. I miss you when you sleep.
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