Our friend Cameron wrote a blog post recently, asking moms to write essays about what motherhood means to them. You can read mine here--it is all about how delicious and violent you are. Seriously, I have little baby finger-sized bruises on my arm right now, because you like to squeeze the life out of me while you're nursing. And when you have nails...look out. No, really, look out. You scratch yourself just as much as you scratch me. We've both had some pretty interesting marks on our faces in recent weeks.
You had a wonderful time with your grandparents when they were in town, laughing a lot and showing off your screaming and your crawling attempts. We went to Fisherman's Wharf, The Beach Chalet, the De Young Museum, and a Giants game. It seems that you are not quite ready to enjoy baseball games. The noise at AT&T Park was too much for you, so we spent most of our time trying to avoid it, and not a lot of time concentrating on the game. You wore a Giants onesie, pink hi-tops, and a mostly sour expression.
After your grandparents left, Dad and I took you to your first concert: the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival in Golden Gate Park. We spent most of our time walking to and from the event, but we did hear Emmylou Harris, Gillian Welch, and a few other folks. You liked the music, and the attention from people in the crowd.
Nonnie is back in town, and after giving her the cold shoulder for about 20 minutes, you are once again completely enchanted by her.
We've been taking long walks and playing in your room, where you have discovered a book called Animals, and are particularly obsessed with the picture of a monkey. You looked at it for about 10 minutes yesterday, and just laughed. When we turned the pages to other animals, your attention wandered, but every time you saw the monkey, you giggled. I think this is a sign of logic forming: monkeys are indeed funnier than starfish.
In other development updates, you have found your ears and love to pull on them, you are rocking back and forth on your hands and knees, seeming so close to launching into a crawl, and you are very fond of peas and sweet potatoes. You love to swing at the park, and are making tons of noise, blowing bubbles and trying to talk to us. So far the only word we can discern is "poof" which you say while looking directly at us, so I think you might be trying to make us disappear.
You are almost always happy and are still sleeping blissfully through the night. As I said in my Motherhood essay, I am feeling so grateful to be your mom.
I love you,
Mom
