he is seven months old today.
-he calls out for me, his ‘ama’ at night when anyone else tries to hold him. he loves playing with sounds of all volumes and consonants. he reaches out for us when we say ‘scoop the baby!’ or undo the clasp of his car seat.
-he can remain sitting, when placed that way, for ages and ages. he loves to hold a toy in each hand, play with them, bang them together, examine each, alternately put them down and pick them up. he can scoot backward. he’s been able to roll over for months.
-his thighs are too chunky for my hands to reach around. his feet are longer than my palms are wide. he has more hair every day, and i found his first freckle on his wrist.
-we’ve been spending more time outside in the nice weather. his skin is beginning to brown. he loves picking things up out of the grass, examining them, licking them, then putting them down. he loves looking at the trees, the sky, the dog. he was thrilled today when the second half of our walk was interrupted by a sprinkle of rain.
-he has eaten yogurt, egg yolk, sweet potato, white beans, chickpeas, white potato with garlic, avocado, banana, chewed on broccoli stem, sucked the juice out of apples.
-for the most part, he is the happiest of babies – in the car seat, in the ergo, in my arms, with his dad, with his grandparents, with the dog, outside, inside. except, you know, when he’s not.