Eight months

February 13, 2015

Dear Eva,

For the first time since you were born on Friday the 13th, your birthday is again on a Friday. Somehow, that makes it feel like this time you are exactly eight months old.


You are growing so fast, and of course that’s always been true, but it’s so apparent right now. It feels like I’m going to close my eyes and you’ll be walking, and I’ll close them again and you’ll be forming sentences, and I’ll close them again and you’ll be making yourself pancakes in the morning.



You really found your consonants at the end of last month, but you are now an endless stream of baba, mama, nana, rara, and yaya. You also have a repertoire of other little sound-words that we say often — like uh-oh and whoa and hi — and even if you don’t know what they mean, I love hearing your little voice all the same.


Your matriculation from baby bathtub to big bathtub is complete, and you’re learning all kinds of new tricks. Like sliding around the tub and turning yourself in a circle — both of which you’ve discovered are much faster and more exciting in the slippery bathtub than on the carpet. You’re fearless in the water and smile whenever you douse yourself through some crazy antics. Something tells me it won’t be long until we have a photo of you identical to one of me in 1986: running full tilt down the beach and into the ocean.



You’re already displaying a penchant for music, and your teachers at school always note how much you enjoy the performers that they bring in to play for your class. You think the xylophone is pretty great, and you gravitate toward the source of any new music that starts playing. This too reminds me of another little baby 30 years ago.


With each passing day, your interest in bottles decreases a bit more, and you’ll even reject the bottle when you suspect that solid food is an option, which I find so surprising and grown-up. You aren’t much for sippy cups either, but think drinking from a rim is just fine and straws might be okay too. It isn’t hard to imagine the days when we’ll sit and share a meal while you tell us about your day.




You are about five seconds away from crawling, and I know that everyone says I should enjoy these days and that things will get crazy once you’re mobile (and I am, and I believe it), but I’m excited about it anyway. You’re very aware that your world is a big place and you’re ready to explore it. Most confusing to you right now is why nothing happens when you lean forward and make a growly noise and will yourself onward. The knees and arms still have some work to do, unlike when daddy holds you in a very similar posture and you magically fly through the air all over the house.




Up until now, your giggles were elicited by something you felt — kisses on your neck, spinning through the air, somersaulting from one lap to the next. But now, you’re laughing joyfully at what you see. The ideas of inside and outside are particularly fascinating and delightful to you this month — when you’re inside the car and I’m standing on the other side of the glass, when your toys are inside the basket and you’re taking them out one by one, when you’re in one room and I peek out at you from the doorway of the next one, when I hide inside or under or behind any number of objects and play peek-a-boo with you.




We’ve always thought of you as our little socialite baby, such a little people person. Always more interested in people and faces than toys and objects. This month, it’s become clear that what you actually like best are other babies and kids. You think that every child you see is a new friend, and I love that that’s how you see the world.



Happy eight month birthday, sweet little muffin.


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