Dear Thomas,
You are now nine months old, you busy boy, you with all your growing and changing and making me fall in love with you deeper than ever before. I'm writing this as you nap in your swing, your feet dangling by several inches, and I realize these days of your textbook babyness are growing short. If I could, I would slow these days and nights down, press the slow motion button on the Tivo remote (the one that you are in love with, and live to possess), and apply it to this waning time. You change as fast as I blink, it seems, and I love who you are becoming, but still. Slow down, dude. Mama can't go that fast anymore.
Here's the cold hard facts: you now have four teeth. The last one has finally broken through your gums, and so you are the proud possessor of two upper front teeth and the lower two front as well. Now that you're not struggling to get through the business of teething, you are a very fun guy. I didn't think that teething was a huge deal, necessarily, I got used to giving you Tylenol or Motrin as a "well, maybe this will work" when you got majorly cantakerous, but I do notice that you seem easier and happier with life. You are definitely sleeping better through the night, alas still in bed with Daddy and I, but we will take what progress we can get. Having four teeth means you have major chewing opportunities, and you like to practice with your new tiny tusks. You've never been one to go for teething rings or anything cold to soothe your gums, but you do quite enjoy chomping on me at any opportunity. Just now you were chewing on my elbow, like I am your favorite bacon flavored snack.
As for mobility, you are always on the move. You "cruise," as they say, with speed and efficiency, and have for what seems like forever, moving along the couch or bookshelves or whatever will be still enough for you to grab hold of. You cling to my legs now, immobilizing me, until I give in and pick you up, incorporating you into whatever it is I'm doing. Up and down you go, and sometimes you try to Army crawl under really low things, like rungs of chairs, and end up getting stuck. Today, I watched you put your head down and peer under the couch. Thankfully, you didn't decide to try to fit underneath, but I did go and fish out some lost toys, so I'm sure you consider that mission accomplished. You have no interest in walking, it seems, though you sometimes stand up and just barely hold on to something that stablilizes you. I am happy to enjoy these crawling days, and watch you increase your speed, as if you are competing for the baby Olympics.
You are definitely more interested in your toys. You play and play and keep yourself pretty occupied, even though you still love to yank books off the bookshelves and spelunk under the computer desk. When we're in the kitchen, I give you an old tin and immediately you turn it upside down and beat on the bottom, a little drummer boy. You also have a collection of spatulas and take great delight in them, so much so that I only have one or two left for myself. I bought you a table to play with, like they have at preschool, and for awhile I kept it in your nursery. You would spy it through the doorway and crawl from the living room like mad to go play with it. It sings and lights up and is happily plastic and only minorly obnoxious, but only because they sing the 123s to the tune of La Cucaracha, which means that I wander around humming stupid La Cucaracha to myself. Lately, you put your face down into the bowl on the table, all the better to experience those whizzing colors flashing, which I'm sure is just fabulous for your brain development, honey. You also love mirrors and put your face right up to them, smiling and curious. I don't know what you're thinking and fervently hope you're not developing a Narcissus complex - but I'm pretty sure you're just exploring your world. Often you leave wet patches on the mirror, and yes you are cute and who could blame you for trying to kiss yourself?
Just a week or so ago you began truly waving in earnest. The first time you actually waved, we were leaving church and your daddy was carrying you, the two of you walking a few feet in front of me. I waved at you, and it was like this waving concept clicked with you, so you waved back. Now you wave quite a bit, not really on command or at the appropriate time, and sometimes with BOTH hands flapping, like you can't contain yourself with this HELLO business, and also, HEY! Also very exciting: you point. You point at your daddy from across the room, you point at whatever it is you notice, it's all a big game to you. We're also very certain that you know "mama" and "dada" when you hear it said, if we say, "Where's Dada?" you look for him, and the same for Mama. I've learned to not even SAY "Where's Dada?" if your Dada isn't home, because you start to cry if you look around and can't find him.
Vocally, things are getting interesting. You are a kalediscope of sound. I love to hear you talk to yourself as you play, this funky baby monologue, your practice time with whatever you have heard that day. You screech with joy, especially when we are out for Thai, it seems. Your daddy taught you to do this hilarious thing, to turn the screeching into something manageable - he would strum your lip with his finger and eventually you started doing it yourself. You mimic us now, and sometimes you and I sound like drunken hoot owls, hooting and oohing back and forth at each other. Now it seems like you actually like for me to sing to you, whether it's for your entertainment while I'm cleaning up the kitchen, or a way to help you chill out before it's time for bed. It seems like I sing the ABCs a lot, it's always my default song to charm you out of a bad mood, or when you protest the indignity of having your diaper changed.
This past month or so, your Pop has been babysitting you on Thursdays afternoon while I go to work. It's been a really good thing, because now you know who he is, and he gets to hang out with you on your turf. He usually takes you on a walk, and a couple of weeks ago you two had quite an adventure. You encountered a big turtle, also taking a walk, and as it went on its way, it lumbered right by a snake! According to your Pop, that snake ran away as fast as he could! Then Pop decided that you would enjoy watching the turtle for a little longer, and he scooped it up and popped in the bottom of your stroller. When Daddy came home, he said the turtle was still there, in the flower bed, refusing to show itself. I get the biggest smile, when I think about your Pop walking along the road with both you and a turtle in the stroller. It just illustrates how deeply people love you, you lucky little boy, and the different ways that love shows itself.
Oh, and for the record, Lovie and Gramps now consider it their mission to bring you a very small alligator. Grandparents can be competitive like that, you know.
I take such joy in you. Truly, every day brings something new, and I luxuriate, when I remember to stay present and watch you explore and make big crashing noises and get into things you shouldn't, in all that you are and who you are becoming. I feel like we're not just mother and son, but friends, buddies together in this great big world. I don't know how such a incredibly awesome child as you found your way to us, but I'm grateful. Our little family of three is so beautiful and whole, and knowing that each day brings us closer to knowing you more and more seems like more goodness than I can handle. I'm happy that in a month, we'll have all summer to play and find new adventures. Oh, and also get back into the habit of napping together every afternoon.
There is so much love for you in my heart and soul, surely it must leak out of me when I walk, like love puddles, a trail of stars, small doses of magic that make this world as good as it can be.
Love,
Mama
