friday cute shot

heard on the street

"Mom, I have two things I will do for you when I grow up. Brush your hair, and protect you with bow and arrows."

-Oscar, to me this evening

Eight, nine, ten, eleven months

Dear Fife,
 
Can I say that maybe I don't write about you as much because I'm too busy enjoying you? I think it's at least partly true; I find myself enjoying your babyhood more than I have in the past. It's also just that three kids and a bigger job keeps you busy in general. Sometimes I start a draft for your monthiversary but don't get far enough to publish, but in any case I make lists in my head as the months go by.

So now you are almost a year old; before that happens I will add to my fragmented unpublished notes [in italics] and look at the pictures and try to remember.

Eleven months:
This is now! For a few more days. At some point over the last several months you learned to say more words: In addition to Mama, we have Dada, Ca for Cat and Kiss, Dah! for dog, and sometimes Ba or Nana for Banana. Also, the milk sign with one fist and two, as the situation calls for. Still scooting, much faster, and now standing for very short bursts; I don't think crawling is in the cards. I finally started putting your hair up in a ponytail to get it out of your face; with that, your round cheeks and your sticking out ears, two separate people have compared you lovingly to a baby troll (I hope when you grow up you think that's as funny as we do).

You love the cold water from the pool or a lake, or especially the Jamison Fountain, but you can't stand the bath. Also, shoes--you can't stand shoes.

Ten months:
[At ten months you love to feed yourself. You devour whole bananas that I've partially peeled (and if I take my eyes off you sometimes you also devour part of the peel in your haste--it's not uncommon to find you happily diving into the banana from the side). You gnawed on ribs for the Fourth of July]; you love fists full of sweet potato or sticky rice. Also slices of peach, mango seeds with a circle of flesh, and anything you see on your brother or sister's plate.

Nine months:
I wrote nothing down about this month but I'll tell you clearly what the best thing was: you started cocking your head to the side, looking for a new take on the world. You'd turn it very severely and look at us and smile, and then one day Lucy said that it was just your superpower--that when you cocked your head to the side you could see everyone's weaknesses. And just like that your smile seemed more knowing, and we were glad you couldn't tell us what you saw.

I think this was also the month when you also started scooting, first dragging your legs around like they were dead weight, then at some point realizing that they might do a little pushing too. 

Eight months: 
[Eight months finds you screaming, shrieking at the top of your lungs.] This shrieking went on for awhile. It was a a preview for us, opening a window into what you like when you aren't willing to go with the flow. Which mostly you still are, you are a lovely and flexible third child, except when you want something you want it NOW and you want ONLY that thing and woe unto us if we don't know what it is.


We love you so much baby Fife, almost a baby no more!

Love,
Mama