seven months!

You're 7 months old today! Back when you were just a little scrap of a boy, I read a book called The First Six Months. At the time, I couldn't believe that you would ever be six months old. I thought you'd always be welded to my body: decorative but largely useless. And now you're even older than six months and you surprise me every day with the things you can do.

You've always been a strong baby. We knew that from the moment you were born, when you lifted your little head off my chest and took a look around. But now you're scooting around the floor in a commando crawl, your little egg-shaped head up and your arms hauling around the rest of your body. Sooner or later you'll learn how to use your knees and then it's all over. You'll be out the door and into a cab before we even realize that you're gone. You give us hell when we try to change you. There's just no time to stay still!

When you were really little, you used to sit quietly in your car seat while mama had a shower. That was a golden time, right? But then you started to crawl and things got even better! Right up until last week, we could leave you to your own devices on the bathroom floor. We knew that the tile pattern would keep you busy indefinitely. And then you learned how to crawl behind the toilet. Suddenly, the flow knob was the most appetizing thing in the world. Mmm...chrome. You are a wily little minx and if we weren't so busy trying to keep you from crawling into desk holes and eating electric wires, we'd be amazed at your growth.

You put everything into your mouth. EVERYTHING. One day you were happy with the universe and the next you were trying to shove it in your mouth. It's like two months ago somebody told you about that baby cliché and you thought now there's an idea. You used to suck your thumb, but now you'd rather suck on the world. You suck on the straps that keep you in your highchair. You bite my ankles. When we go swimming, you drink half the pool water. I can't eat an apple or a pear in front of you without inciting a big whining grabbing performance because there's nothing you'd rather do than suck all the juice from that fruit. You've tasted all of your toys, and you often try to taste the sounds when you're given a rattle. You nurse a lot. You're passionately in love with cups full of water, which is lucky, because every person in this house drinks water every day and there's a 50-50 chance that if we have a glass in our hand, we're able to share it with you.

You're a very cheerful baby, especially since mama started putting you down for long naps. You flirt with strangers and smile at people in line-ups. Everyone comments on your beautiful eyes, which is only just since your father's family has the best eyes in the universe. People have stopped marveling at your hair, as you're a big boy now and expected to have a full head of hair. They don't know that you've always been a long-haired freek. You lost a lot of the hair on the sides of your head, but the stuff on top kept growing and the term "fauxhawk" is often muttered in your vicinity. You have two excellent teeth. I used to think that babies with teeth looked dumb, but now I realize baby teeth are gorgeous. At least, yours are.

You make this face, Blake. When you learn to talk, you'll have to explain this face to me. We call it your game face. You scrunch up your nose and sniff-growl at us. I think this is your way of telling us a joke, or of saying that it's time for games. It's definitely a signal for merriment. But it's completely bizarre. One day you just started doing it, and we've never quite understood why.

You also like to grab the pacifier from my mouth if I ever have the temerity to keep it there instead of in my hand. You're not much of a pacifier boy (you never were), but you know what's yours. And you have a devilish glint in your eye when you snatch that dummy out of my mouth. You've almost figured out how to play a game!

This month we started to work on your sleeping habits. Because, honest to God, Blake – what's with the screaming all night long? I was okay with the constant nursing because we were both sleeping, but then you started to shriek. For hours. When it was only technically morning. This month we got a book (we're geeks, totally and completely people of the book), and we started to work on your sleeping. So far we're not having a lot of dramatic success (do you really need to wake up every two hours to nurse?) but at least you're happier now that you're having real naps. And I really love singing lullabies to you every night at the same time. There's some good stuff on that free tape they gave me at the Early Year's Centre.

I'm sure that by next month, you'll be sleeping 12 hours straight. So we won't need to mention this again, right? Right.

(Format shamelessly stolen from Heather at dooce. Imitation is the sincerest form of envy.)

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 7/08/2004 10:28:00 p.m.