Letters to Speckie: Seven months!

12:00 PM



I meant to write this for his sixth month entry and as usual it got lost in the midst of so many things and better late than never I guess!

6 months was what I gave myself in this breastfeeding journey.
6 months is how long we have been parents, we have survived on the minimal hours of sleep everyday and accumulated enough sleep debt for winter hibernation even.
6 months is a bouncing, chubby and chatty little boy.

And we turn 7 months together. 

I give us, your caregivers a huge pat on our backs for coming this far and every month since you were born in fact.

It does get easier, however every stage brings about a new set of challenges.

You still love conversing with dadda, particularly. And when he is off for work trips, you try to nudge us into the same conversations.

Your bedtime routine has stopped involving a fair amount of carrying and lullabying - infact, you screeched at us to stop doing and we all thought you were just being sleepy. Of course, we finally got that you preferred very much to burrow your kiwi head into the mattress and find that sweet spot to fall asleep.

Your tiny fist can grab hold of things so tight - that cheerio I let you hold became so hard to pry from your grip.

First foods include rice cereal, apples, pears, avocado, brocolli and cauliflower. Your favouritest goes to pears and least favourite avocado (they give you terrible gas). Like your dadda you chomp down everything tasty or not down with much gusto, phew you aren't a fussy eater like momma!

We've gotten you into the routine of storybook, bath and milk and after a full week of storytelling - you finally touched the book. Seems like someone is a lil scaredy cat in the making.

You attended your first birthday party dressed to fit the theme of rainbows - and turns out, nobody else followed it including the birthday girl. D'oh!

We tried to teach you the hand sign for milk and each time we cue it you break into a flood of tears. Are you THAT hungry?

That car ride after our CNY dinner brought on a barrage of tears, yelling and shrieking and no amount of cajoling seemed to help. What happened baby boy??? Those 20 minutes home was more horrific than halloween even. But the moment we got off the car, you were a face of tranquility. Until now, nobody can decipher what exactly went wrong. 

That said, you're a joy to be with. A literal ball fun when you get all excited making a human jumperoo out of your dadda and cupping my face with both hands. Too cute. Just don't grow up so fast, please? 

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