Nine Months

It’s been nine months since you were born. That means you’ve been out here in the world roughly the same length of time you were in your mother’s womb. So how do you like it? Which milieu do you prefer? Hopefully you’re enjoying yourself out here because, after all, there’s no going back.

My new phone arrived the day you were born; I dropped it yesterday and it’s out of commission. You’ve taken a few hard knocks yourself, but so far you’ve held up better than my cell phone.

People still say you look like me. Your mother calls us “the twins.”

You’re much more mobile now, but still not crawling. You do a sort of belly flop that requires a great deal of upper body exertion. Yesterday you belly-flopped halfway down our hall (which is a long way) to visit Folds. You did a classic hands-and-knees crawl for just a stroke or two. So it won’t be long, I’m sure.

A couple days ago, you were sitting in your high chair (generously donated by Carmen and family) and chewing on a gear-shaped toy. You dropped the toy just on the edge of your tray. Try as you might, you couldn’t quite reach to get it back, but you kept trying, and started making a fuss about it. Finally I handed the gear to you and you were happy again. That might not sound like much, but it was the clearest expression of desire, frustration, and satisfaction that I’ve seen from you yet. You are emerging as a person.