Baby Legume, you're more than half a year old. 6 months now, and 5 days. I meant to write this post on your half-birthday, of course, but so many of my intentions get waylaid these days.
It seems that just yesterday you could not even hold up your head. Now you are sitting up, very briefly, on your own. You are eating solid food. Squash and sweet potato at the moment. You sit ensconced in your purple Bumbo chair as we feed you, like a tyrannical emperor of myth, yelling for more more more! lunging wildly at the spoon and screaming if we take too long to refill it. You also make a huge mess.
In fact, you are lunging forward at everything these days, grabbing at everything in sight. Even the cat. Especially the cat. It is your ambition to grab that cat and stuff her right into your mouth. You have, in fact, nearly succeeded a number of times. That stupid animal insists on sitting right next to you on your blanket, flirting with disaster. You have swiped at her face, grabbed her by both cheeks and tried to bring her down to your greedy mouth, pulled at her ears and pulled out clumps of her fur. I suppose I'm remiss for not supervising the two of you better, but she would insist on coming back for more. I think she must actually like it.
You grab at your sister, too, and this delights her. You pull my hair, grab your father's face. Your little arms wrap so tightly around my neck. This world is so big and exciting for you. Are you just (literally) trying to swallow it all in? But sometimes it's too much for you, as well. You've developed a touch of stranger anxiety in the last few weeks, and you cried the last time Grandma and Grandpa came to visit. Some selfish part of me secretly relishes the way you sometimes cling to me, how it is I that you trust above all others, and sometimes only I that can comfort you.
Your whole body wriggles with delight when I walk in the room. I love this. I love that broad baby smile that nearly splits your face. Your hands clench in excitement, and you make a soft chuckle-gasp.
You learned to scoot backward on your belly this morning! I set you down on your blanket, and turned away for just a moment. When I looked back, you were not where I'd left you! You were busily scooting yourself backward, and were just backing into the space under your big sister's bookshelf. I retrieved you, set you a few feet forward, and you promptly began scooting back under the bookshelf again. However, you have not yet shown your daddy this trick.
So much more to say... the way you bounce like a maniac in your exersaucer. The way you perpetually have two fingers jammed in your mouth, sucking. Your ultrasonic squeals. We can't record it all, baby Legume. But we love you. And we love watching you grow, becoming the person you were born to be.