Thursday, January 24, 2013

An open letter to my 5 month old.

Dear Bo,

Today, you are five months old.  It has been almost half a year since I first laid eyes on you.

Gratuitous newborn photo.
In many ways, you look exactly the same.  {You'll always be my baby.}  At the same time, you're filling out.  You're developing facial expressions.  You're becoming more and more handsome.  {You'll still always be my baby.}

You've pretty much mastered rolling over from front to back.  Back to front is more difficult - or you're less interested.  {I'm not sure which.}  

You are much more interested in the world.  You're constantly looking around. You discovered Gus Dog.  He's happy that you finally petted him - even if you pulled his fur and accidentally poked him in the eye.  You love having your brother and sister here.  Des thinks you're the cutest thing ever.  Tyler thinks you're heavy.  You made friends with your cousin Aubrey.  She calls all babies Bo-Bo now.

Cousins are our first friends.

You love your feet.  You hate socks.  You're stubborn like your mama persistent. 

You've really found your voice.  You talk.  A lot.  Like your daddy.  I love your gurgles.  It reminds me of that night 5 months ago - the first thing I heard when you were born was a gurgle.  It terrified me - but you were perfect.

Last gratuitous newborn photo.
Okay, Okay - Back to now.  You sound like a baby wookie. {Still cute.}

As of tonight, I noticed you really putting weight on your feet.  You put your feet down in my lap and pushed yourself up.  I downloaded a Fisher Price app for you on my phone.  It has lots of animals.  You touch the screen to make them change and you smile.  Our favorite is the bear.  He is really funny.

You have finally started taking an interest in our food.  I let you drink water out of my cup, and now you're insatiable.  We plan to start you on oatmeal on Saturday.  You're currently hovering around the 5th percentile for weight {95% of babies weigh more than you at your age.}  You're just above the 50th percentile for height, though!  The doctor calls you lean and mean.

You saw your first snow.

You like going to church.  The ladies there love on you a lot.  Plus, they have this thing.
Can't blame you. I'd sit in one if I fit.

I promised you that I wouldn't get all mushy mushy on you again.  It's just that I want you to have this.  I want you to look back one day and know that every day with you was exciting.  I want you to know that from the beginning, you were smart and funny and determined and handsome and loved.


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