If you were writing this month’s post, I think you would entitle it, “Look at my body and all the amazing things it can do!” And we all agree.
It started with the week of shrugging. Every time someone would shrug at you, you would imitate with a big smile on your face. Then we had the week of clapping. Everything was claps. Play time claps, changing table claps, bath time claps, high chair claps. Soon after clapping came shaking your head (and, every once in awhile, nodding). You have no idea that it means no, but we laugh like you do.
And finally, after weeks of scooting and rocking and lots of frustration, you started crawling. It began with the wounded soldier — one leg out to the side, pushing off with your toes — but quickly progressed into legit crawling, with such confidence that it seems like you’ve been crawling for months. Over, under, and through, around the dining table, between the arms of the jumperoo, on top of daddy’s legs when he’s sitting on the floor.
Easter was especially delightful as we helped you discover all the eggs we “hid” for you. And two days after Easter, when you realized there was an egg in the dining room that you missed, you crawled right to it, opened it up, and ate all the Cheerios inside.
Was it even days before you started pulling up? It feels like only hours. Because standing is your favorite, I think you were even more excited about pulling up than you were about crawling. Now the living room is like circuit training. Crawl to toy basket; sit and pull all the toys out. Crawl to ottoman; pull up and put anything within reach on the floor. Pick items up from the floor; drop them back onto the floor. Cruise around the ottoman; experiment with free standing at intervals. Transfer to the sofa; try to climb up (unsuccessfully, for now). Sit down; get stuck or hit head; workout complete.
When you aren’t pulling up, it’s because you’re preoccupied with pulling things off or out — magazines off surfaces, books off shelves, toys out of bins. You’re learning about bookshelves that are yours (where you can pull books off whenever you want) and bookshelves that are mine and daddy’s (where you can touch but can’t pull books down). And your sense of how things should be continues — like when a toy is trapped inside another toy. That is simply not to be tolerated.
You’re also learning about toys that are much more complex, like the stacking rings and the What’s Inside box. Every time you pull the frog out of the box, you squeal excitedly. Not for the car or the fish or the butterfly — only the frog. You love to turn the pages of the books while we’re reading, and you adore the little plastic books that fit your hands. You also hold onto the yellow square for the stacking rings while you use the other hand to empty all three pegs. I wish I knew what made the frog and the yellow square so special, but I guess that’ll have to stay your secret.
Your limbs and mind aren’t the only things that have become more discriminating this month. You are suddenly very aware of foods and their textures, performing fun feats like picking bits of fruit out of yogurt or separating chunks out of a mashed mixture. I can’t blame you for rejecting slimy foods; they aren’t my favorite either. But while you’re taking things out of your mouth, you’re also now quite adept at putting the pacifier into your mouth. That does make car rides much easier, so I guess it’s a tradeoff.
Of all your achievements this month, sleeping through the night is undoubtedly your least favorite, but it’s a real crowd-pleaser. I still wish we were all as bright eyed and bushy tailed in the early morning light as you, but it’s hard to complain. Because every morning, when we walk into your room and find you kneeling or standing in your bed and watch your face light up with a big smile the moment you see us, it’s impossible to complain about anything.
Happy ten month birthday, baby girl.