|Blue eyes and peaches|
You are about as charming a baby as ever existed. Ah, well, I should qualify that: as long as I am within six inches of you, you are the most charming baby known to man. It seems like each successive baby gets even MORE possessive of mama, oddly; I think I remember leaving Sylvie with a sitter for the first time at nine months, and Sylvie - and the sitter - cried the whole time. I can't even IMAGINE leaving you with a sitter in a month without someone having to call 911 or Child Protective Services.
|It's a real shame - your siblings don't want anything to do with you.|
I love this age; you are a lovely immobile (but oh so close to crawling!) fountain of smiles and bubbles.
You must be going through a growth spurt, because from 2:30 am on you want to nurse every hour. So you are basically attached to me for half the night, which wouldn't be so bad except you have also started rappelling against my stomach while you nurse, so I am sort of like a combination milk machine/rock wall. Which is why I am both a bit tired and feeling like my abs are very sore, despite not having done a sit up since 1992.
But I am dreading weaning you because then a) I won't have a "baby" anymore, and b) oh dear Lord what am I going to do about "family planning."
|In Colette's old French harlot outfit|
|I don't know what's going on here. She's tough to catch.|