Leah's nine month letter

Dear Leah,
Early this morning around 3:30am (I can never remember the exact time) I was rocking you in the polka dot glider in your dimly lit room. Moments before you had guzzled 8oz of formula as you always do during your night time feeding. I lifted you from the feeding position and pulled you close to my chest. Your fuzzy head settled heavily on top of my shoulder. Your long toes spread apart like a fan, as your feet felt for a place to rest. Your body relaxed and you drifted back to sleep within seconds. This middle of the night time together is my favorite time with you. The house is silent and dark and we are uninterrupted. We slowly rock back and forth and I soak up the moment in my half-awake state.

You love to clap. You have not figured out how to do it by yourself yet, but we have a fun time doing it together. We sit face to face and I clap first. Your mouth opens wide and a massive grin spreads across your face. After a few claps I take your hands and clap them together for you. This sends jolts of joy through your entire body. You can barely contain yourself. Bursts of giggles erupt from your belly and you laugh and laugh and laugh. I stop and you ponder what to do next, trying to figure out how to clap independently. You bang on my belly with both hands, as if saying, "Let's do it again!"

You and Melody are starting to play together. You lay side by side on a quilt on the living room floor or in the bathtub. Melody mimics your full body kicks. Her body is long and thin compared to your rollie-pollie tummy and legs. Sometimes you want a ball or a bear and she insists that you want something different because it's the toy she wants to play with. Soon you'll be too smart for her manipulative toy switching.

You sit up like a pro now and I don't have to worry about you falling over anymore. You're trying to figure out how to crawl. You scoot backward instead of forward and usually end up stuck halfway underneath the couch or coffee table. You enjoy watching movies with your sister and no one can make you laugh like her silly shrieking can.



Anonymous said...

i really think you should write a book, maybe a mommy memoir book, something funny and nostalgic. you are such a good writer at that sort of thing. maybe even fiction, but written about your experiences.

Karen said...

thou hast been tagged. go to my blog to check out the rules. :)