Tuesday, December 11, 2012
A big day today, for all of us. The boy lost his second tooth (no photos yet), directly below and a whole year apart from his first one. The miss turned half a year old, and wore her new cap that I made yesterday, flaunting my new sewing ambitions all over the place. The cap, incidentally, was supposed to be larger and for someone else, and I will swear by my cutting and seam allowances, so I blame the pattern. No huge mishap, though, since it looks so smart on Anaiah. Six months. Boy howdy.
She has eaten her way through this last month, I think, adding apple, pear, sweet potato, avocado, yogurt and mango to her repertoire. Her favorites are the cereal (we graduated to the multigrain version today, which she tucked into with even greater gusto), apple and mango, but she has to be pret-ty dang hungry for sweet potato to look worth eating. She makes her preferences known with a certain panache, does our girl, pulling faces and hacking and gagging before becoming sedulously attentive to her napkin until the offending substance is removed from the menu.
She is truly like the little bird we named her for, quick and bright and rapidly attentive. She is on a bird's schedule, too, up and down with the sun, and if nothing hampers her rhythm she attends to both with equal cheerfulness (thanks be). I read back through my other baby posts and was chagrined to realize that in every one of them I talk about the same old stuff (hello, boring mom brain), bath time and brother time, etc. etc. I'll spare you, and let's just assume that all that was true before is true now only more so, because there is more of her. And how! I wasn't kidding when I said she has eaten her way through the month, she is getting to be quite a sturdy lass (as an older Welsh woman once described me), and has taken to exercising her voice along with her body. Her magnum opus is 'Ode to a Spoon', to which we are treated almost nightly. It involves much dramatic raising of said object and prostrations before it, with mighty and thunderous homage to its benevolence. At least, we can only assume. 'Ode to a Washcloth' comes in a close second.
With my Great Dane of a son turning six years old this weekend, this hurried passage of time comes a bit hard. I try to soak the moments through my eyes, ears, nose, pores...and it is, it's just like sand. But the future is promising, too, so I can't complain. I like this just fine.