My Dear Little Bean, It is amazing to me that the weeks fly by this fast. Having you in our lives makes the days blur together the landscape does out the window of a moving car. It's a wonderful, giddy feeling, watching time dissolve like this: watching you grow. But also bittersweet, because you're officially more than half way through your babyhood.
You are seven months old and there are so many moments I spend with you when I want to scoop you up and devour you with kisses. You're so yummy right now, with your milky breath, your big sparkling eyes, and your butterball thighs. You've become all mischief and adventure this month, my little one, because YOU HAVE LEARNED HOW TO CRAWL.
Since then, you've gotten into everything of course. Which for the most part works out okay for dada and I since weâ€™re not extraordinarily sophisticated with our interior decorating and don't have anything you can really destroy (except of course dada's lovely CDs which you relish tossing onto the floor!) Our concern is less about what you can damage, and more about what you can get into.
Speaking of which, you ARE still breastfeeding dude. This is your primary mode of sustenance, and it is highly advisable that you STOP TRYING TO BITE ME. Got that? We give you oodles of yummy things to bite, and eat even--and you do (you especially like bananas, apple sauce and avocados)---but never with the fervor and glee that you reserve for the occasional illicit chomp on my boob. I am not okay with this, by the way.
Last month you were a disaster in the sleep department because of all that "milestone wake-up" business, so we implemented a bedtime routine that involves taking a warm shower with Daddy and then snuggling into bed with mama for nursing and lullabies. I never thought I'd be this kind of mom. The kind that crawls into bed with her baby to put him to sleep. But I am. And for the most part I enjoy those quiet, sleepy, dark-room moments where we're pressed up against each other, and you're all nestled into the crook of my arm. And when you're next to me you don't try to roll over to crawl, which works out just fine, since you GET SO MAD when you do that, but you can't seem to stop yourself---or couldn't, all last month.