Tuesday, November 30, 2010

The nine month love letter

Dear Daisy,

This past Sunday you turned nine months old, nine months. I can barely believe it. You are 27 inches long, and you weigh 16 pounds, 11 ounces, roughly in the 30th percentile of your peers. I stumbled to get you from your crib and carried you back to bed with me. Your father and I snuggled with you after your early morning nursing session, enjoying our last morning of the long Thanksgiving holiday weekend. We gave Eskimo kisses, blew raspberries, and tickled you until you belly laughed. We told you that you are among the most adorable and wonderful beauties of the world.

We watched you crawl, cheered you along, and you flashed us your dimpled grin after you made it across the kitchen floor, ready to play with your alphabet magnets. We fed you homemade applesauce with a sprinkle of cinnamon. We let you feed yourself Daddy’s famous pancakes – and we told you that you are the prettiest and loveliest eater in the world. Daddy rocked you to sleep, whispering sweet nothings in your ear before placing you in your “big girl crib” with your favorite green blanket clutching the silk ribbon edges. After your nap, we built tower after tower after tower, for you to knock down, with blocks, plastic measuring cups, and stuffed animals; always with a squeal of delight and some clapping, after which you raise your arms in the air, so proud of your accomplishments.

We called you Silly Monkey and Stinker. We read I love You, Stinky Face half a dozen times. You stuck out your toes in anticipation of the onslaught of kisses coming with the reading of Counting Kisses. We took you on a long walk; you laughed at Casey chasing the birds, and babbled in your stroller, clearly contributing to the conversation. We played Christmas Carols and sang and laughed and danced while we made dinner.

We let you feed yourself sweet potato spears, string cheese and peas for dinner. You drank water from my cup. We kissed your cheeks and stroked your head. You splashed in the bath, reading your “bath book” and throwing your dolphin, crab and turtle bath toys over the side. You chuckled at Daddy’s silly voices, smiling and giggling at his witty song lyrics.

And when we tucked you in at night we told you that you are undoubtedly the very best part of our lives. And when we woke up on Monday morning, to another busy day and another busy week, we spent a moment and reveled in our luck at having spent the past nine amazing months with perfect, precious, wonderful you.



1 comment:

Brenners said...

This is absolutely beautiful! I love it.