Thursday, October 31, 2013

Happy Six Months, Will!

Dear Mr. BugARoonieBoonieBoo (I hope you are embarrassed by this pet name when you are twelve.),

You are SIX months old, Will!  Hard to believe, though, that you were still in my tummy longer than you've been in the real world.  Cah-razy.

Let's see.  In the last month...

You got a new high chair and started sitting at the big table with mom and dad.

You are still in size 3 diapers, in disposable, and are still in medium cloth ones.

You went trick-or-treating early at Grammy Pammy's house.  Even though she hates Halloween and never let ME dress up or decorate pumpkins, she gave you Halloween treats and LOVED your costume...  (What the heck.  I wish EYE would have been cute enough to be rebellious and get away with it.  All those years...missing out on Star Wars themed costumes and Reese's Peanut Butter cups.  LAME.)

You are developing more and more of a sense of humor every day.

 You are rocking your physical therapy.

You drank your very first can of Mountain Dew.  ...just kidding.

You have gotten older, more aware, and thus, more particular about the things you like and do NOT like.  And, you are good about letting us know what you think about things.  Thanks.  I think?

You are still teething and drooling, but have not gotten ANY teeth yet.

You had a fun dedication party with lots and lots of your friends.

You got your first tattoos.

You went on your last (probably) fall walk of the season.  We're already looking forward to spring walks!

You've started to sleep longer at night...dare I say THROUGH the night?  (What the heck constitutes sleeping THROUGH the night anyway?  5 hours?  6 hours?  8 hours?  12?  I think my friend, Heather, and I have these same questions.)  Oh.  And, this one night, you pushed your feet right out of your pajamas.

You are sitting up (almost) independently now!

You are still ONLY sleeping on your tummy (with your butt high in the air), despite my best intentions to keep you on your back.  Sorry, medical community and ten thousand posters about the "BACK TO SLEEP" movement.  Life happens, folks.  I give up.

You braved your first tornado warning.  We hid in the shower downstairs and I think I was more scared than you.  You thought it was fun to stay up past your bedtime and play in your new, fun, little nest of pillows.

You love, love, love playing with your daddy.  He is the good cop, and you think he is the coolest.  I am the bad cop that makes you go to sleep and interrupts play time with *necessary* diaper changes and such.  You will hate me for this someday.

You continue to give smiles to everyone that even looks your way in the slightest.  Your smiles are...magical.  For real.  Your giggles are double magical.

You are still drinking breast milk exclusively, but from a bottle.

You are in twelve month clothes.

You've learned how to splash in your bathtub (and by "splash" I mean, kick-so-hard-half-the-water-spills-on-the-floor)...and then you giggle about how fun it is.

You've taken the next step in getting weaned off your medication.  Still no seizures, praise the Lord.

You love tummy time, playing with music-making toys, shaking your maraca, and you LOVE playing with your toy balls.  Daddy says you look like a pitcher already!

At Harp & Bowl, you hear the music and like to "sing along" too.  Too bad it sounds like screaching and is mildly distracting to the rest of the crowd.  I am proud of you for making a joyful noise, Mister Man.

Umm.  I can't think of anything else, but I'm sure there's more...  You are growing and changing constantly.   You keep us on our tippy-toes!

Love you bunches.  Hearts and flowers and rainbows and stuff.

-Your Mom

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