Last night when I reminded Tom that today was David’s seven-month birthday he said exactly what I was thinking, “No way.”
Babies are fickle, fickle creatures. That’s what I learned this month.
One day he loves the changing table, the next day he acts like I’m laying him on a bed of nails. One day he loves the big plastic star on his exersaucer so much we have to take it off so he can carry it everywhere. The next day he throws it across the room and gave me a look that said, “Get that stupid star out.of.my.face.”
His favorite toy is still the one we got for him more than a year before his birth, our cat Brigham. His love for the cat overshadows his love for anything else on this planet, even mommy and daddy. He never smiles for me the way he smiles for Brigham. It’s something I’ll forgive him for. One day.
Now that the weather is amazing we go outside every day. Most of the time David tries to roll off the blanket while I try to keep him from stuffing pinecones in his mouth. We listen to the birds, look at flowers, and whenever Brigham comes into the yard, David flaps his arms and laughs. The cat! The cat!
He’s not crawling yet. He rocks on his knees and can do an army-type crawl, but he can’t quite get his round belly off the floor. I’m sure that when he does crawl, it’ll be after Brigham.
We watch Jeopardy! every day; sometimes twice a day. That’s a fact I’m going to make sure he includes in his college admissions letters. Just yesterday we learned that 3 Musketeers candy bars used to have three pieces, flavored chocolate, strawberry and vanilla. If that knowledge doesn’t get him into Harvard, I don’t know what will.
In other developmental news, David has discovered the high-pitched squeal. It sounds like a baby seal caught in a trap. And also that baby seal is trying to get out of the trap by scratching on a blackboard. The squeal can mean one of three things:
1) Mom. I would like that toy over there, could you please get it for me?
2) I’m bored, let’s have a dance party!
3) I have a great idea…let’s go look for the cat!
Feeding David has become my least favorite part of the day. He used to love his highchair. Now he hates it. My only explanation is that he’s figured out the reason we put him in the highchair is because WE want him there for OUR purposes.
He refuses to eat and screams through every single feeding. Like any concerned mom, I worried that something was wrong. Was something pinching him? Is something sticking him, or did I twist his leg putting him in the chair? Is he TEETHING? Maybe he’s teething!
I’m certain none of those things are true because whenever Brigham walks in the room the screaming stops and he starts smiling. If your discomfort can be solved by watching a cat walk across the room then NOTHING IS WRONG WITH YOU.
David was sick this month. One night he started crying and I could just tell it was different from his usual cry. I ran into his room and he was burning up. His fever lasted all day and into the next night. This was my first time dealing with this sort of thing, so between worrying and calling the doctor, I held him all day and checked on him several times through the night. It is so, so hard to see your baby sick.
The experience reminded me of when I was sick as a kid. I remember when my mom would come in and check on me. She’d put her cool hand on my forehead and somehow, just having her close made me feel better. What I didn’t know until now, is that even though I was the sick one, she was suffering even more than me.
So you’re growing up, huh? I can tell. I can see it when you choose toys, and when you splash in the bath. I can especially see it when you look at the cat, then back at me, then back at the cat. It’s as if you’re saying, “Mom, you’ve done a good job taking care of me so far, but maybe it’s time to just release Brigham and me into the wild.”
But you’re still my baby, and you will be for a long time.
This month you’ve become incredibly ticklish. Whenever I tickle belly, your feet and your back you explode into full-body laughter. Is there anything better?
I find myself saying that a lot. Is there anything better? Than when you rest your head on my shoulder and wrap your arm around my neck? Than having to put you in a headlock every time I change your diaper? Than laying outside in the shade with you? Than your chubby knees and fuzzy head?
There isn’t. There’s nothing better.
P.S. Just to be clear, I like you way more than I like the cat.