Let’s talk about how you communicate. You do. You always have. From the moment you made my water break right after Grandma told you through the phone on my belly to be born, you have been listening and “talking.” Very early on, you started sticking your tongue out at people. You wanted them to do it back. And if they did, you did it back to them. Most babies do this a little, I think. But you are still doing it. I think it is your way of saying “Yo.”
You’ve become a little Mommy’s boy. Yeah, I’m the one they call Mommy. I hear poor Mama at least once a day say something like, “She’s just leaving the room for a second, baby. Pull yourself together.”
You make the loudest sometimes whiniest screeching noises. We’ve taken to calling you Sleestak. It was a name we also called your brother for a while. I don’t remember how old he was. I guess you just want us to know that you want your needs to be met. Or that you don’t like the fact that I’m leaving the room for a minute. Or that you like to make that noise to hear yourself.
No more calm diaper changes for you either, buddy. You really really really want to spin around and crawl regardless of whether or not there is a diaper full of poo right under your legs. So. Yeah. That can get messy.
Have I mentioned your cuteness? You are so cute. Cute as a button. And your hair is crazy. That’s what Cakie likes to say. The other day I caught him trying to brush your hair while saying, “Hold still! Hold still. Your hair is craaaazy.” I even cut it once. One would never know, but I did.
I can’t believe you are eight months old already. I just received an email… a whole “conversation” of emails written between Nelly and I the week before you were born. Mommy was sure you’d arrive a month late. Ha. But it is so funny for me to think about the time before I knew you. It was only nine months ago. Nine months ago, at time I call ‘The Dark Ages.’ Because I had never seen you, my light.