You are eight months old today--hooray, hooray! I couldn't resist a tiny impromptu (and admittedly amateur) photo shoot to celebrate the occasion. A few things you should know about yourself at eight months old include:
You continue to teeth, but have yet failed to produce any chompers. It's probably for the best. You open your mouth like a tiny bird whenever we eat in front of you. Had you any teeth we might be tempted to feed you food designed for the older set. (As if you need any more help growing.) I, for one, hope you continue to drool a bit longer.
You, my dear, are no longer a lump to be merely carried, hauled, moved and positioned. You have an opinion on several topics these days--diving for a bath at the sound of running water, a persistent whimper that begins any time I enter the room and lasts just until I scoop you up, and an obsession with anything red. Such opinions are a recent development that are as inconvenient as they are enchanting. No, you are definitely no longer a lump.
Your chubby arms make me feel more cannibal than omnivore. I nibble on you every chance I get. Your giggle entices me to continue to my meal of squishy, heaven-scented goodness. I will make you a deal--when you stop that delicious laugh, I'll stop snacking.
At eight months old, you continue to smile with your entire body at nearly any friendly face that looks your way. I can feel your sunshine--it is warm and wonderful and many good things grow in its light.
Don't get me wrong, you are not perfect. You are still a terrible sleeper, but I don't mind our moonlit cuddles. You worry me to no end, but aside from keeping track of your adoring brothers there is nothing more important I'd rather be doing. I know you could have chosen so many other families. Thank you, thank you for picking us. Eight months down, a lifetime yet to go.