Dearest Baby Boy,
You are six months old, darling boy, and I can't believe that we are halfway through. Halfway through your babyhood, halfway through our year off together. Six months that you and I have been absolutely inseparable. Well, except for that late-night 10-minute run to the shop a few months ago, where I must confess I felt light as air, but also, eerily like I was missing a limb. Where did that six months go? It seems to have passed in a blink, but I can barely remember what it was like when you weren't a part of us. You weighed in at 16 lbs 4 oz. this week and feel dense as a concrete block. In fact "breeze-block" is Daddy's little nickname for you now.
A friend recently remarked how strong and stable you felt while being held, in comparison to other babies your age, and I thought "well, you'd be good at something too if you'd been doing it ALL YOUR DAMN LIFE." I say that with a smile, and with the knowledge that - though you prefer to experience your days in the comfort of someone's arms - little by little you are developing some independence. There is a golden hour after you wake in the morning when I can set you down on a blanket and expect peace for the duration of a shower and getting your sister and I ready for the day. You can be left sitting on the sofa with a few toys and be happy for a decent interval. You enjoy spending time in the doorway bouncer each day while I get some chores done. You like laying on your toy mat, batting at the toys and doing your best to alternately shove them in your mouth, or disconnect them from the structure. You don't like doing any one of these things for very long, and I remember on a particularly fractious afternoon I had to relocate you no less than five times during the time I was trying to wash the dishes in order to stave off boredom and tears. However the intervals of time you are happy to spend on your own are extending. You often chill out alone and content for a bit after you wake up. During the past week you've fully woken and resettled yourself to sleep twice and even shocked me by putting yourself to sleep at bedtime once when I left you to tend to your sister. So you'll get there, my son, you will get there. Your bedtime has moved up to the 7 o'clock hour and overnights are still much the same - you always sleep and sleep well, but often stir a handful of times in the night seeking the comfort of a cuddle and a bit of nursing.
You are a dedicated finger chewer and this month you've discovered your feet, which have become a bit of an obsession. You can right your listing ship in a sitting position, though I still don't trust you not to fall over within 10 seconds to a minute. You've become a little chatter box, engaging in dialogue with conversational coos. You have a ready laugh, especially when I sing to you, and you are extremely ticklish - neck, ears, shoulders, tummy, back... so bath time is a cascade of giggles. You whinge a lot but don't seriously cry often, though this week you were on my lap and dropped a toy, then cried like your heart was broken when I didn't pick it up immediately. Caught me a bit off guard, that, now you're developing an opinion on things. However, those moments are fleeting because no matter how upset you are, that million-watt grin is always lurking, making a quick appearance as long as someone comes by to chat or pick you up. Tears can turn into giggles and back again in quick succession. And to make it all the more charming, I've even spied a hint of a dimple in those adorable chubby cheeks. You approach life with an expectant look on your face, your eyes wide, brows lifted, lips parted and a hint of the smile hiding there, like you can't wait to see what happens next. Me neither, my boy, me neither.
I love you with all my heart,