Little Dude, I believe I can safely say this is the last month your dad and I will be able to rest with you in the house. You are about to start crawling any second now and once that happens it will be a non-stop Cirque du Soleil show around here. You are working so hard at getting moving. You’ve figured out how to get up on your hands and knees, rock furiously back and forth, and more often then not, do some little frog-hopping move where you scoot around. You’ve mastered turning around and you reach your arm out to grab things or re-position your hand, but forward with consistency still eludes you.
Another thing you’ve mastered is sitting up – no help needed. This has come in so handy – not only for you, but us as well. You can now sit in a restaurant high chair – and at the poker table. We can’t keep you from eating the ante, but at least Dad can always find a fourth now.
You’ve developed your own little language of squeals and sounds to let us know what you want – and you aren’t afraid to use them. Loudly. You still love the sound of “Hoo” and “Heeeeyyyyy”, but have added “Deh deh deh deh deh” to your repertoire as well. And of course, there’s the laughing.
Let’s talk about the laughing for a moment, shall we? You smile and wrinkle your nose all day long – as if you have a permanent mask full of nitrous oxide being strapped to your face. But you are the most difficult kid to make laugh. We’ve all tried, but the full on belly laugh still eludes us. Perhaps you use up so much of The Happy all day long, that you just can’t find enough of it to strap together to create a big laugh – I have no idea. But it is the only thing I find wanting with you. So, as a favor to Mommy and Daddy, could you belt one out? ‘Cause our next attempt will include tequila in your bottle.
You and your sister spend every evening after dinner on our bed imitating each other. She flaps her arms and you follow suit – so proud that you are doing something the Big Kids do. The dog is not at all thrilled with this, but she deals with it because it keeps you from reaching out to rip off her beard or paws…although I’m sure that will come soon.
You haven’t had the chance to venture out to many places – it has either been too cold, too rainy or you’ve had one of your monthly colds, but this month you went somewhere so fabulous you couldn’t contain yourself: Lowe’s. Yes, my son, you love home improvement stores. And the grocery store. Really, you just love to go – and I can’t blame you…your Ring of Neglect gets a little old, huh?
Before you were born, I worried about how to dress you so that you don’t look ridiculous – as I have no experience with dressing a boy. This month, it was finally time to go get you some warm weather clothes. Off I went to some favorite stores – and basically came back with the wardrobe I always knew you’d end up in: golf shirts and shorts or little soccer and rugby outfits. I did get a cute pair of seersucker pants on you (with a golf shirt!) and you didn’t look like a reject from Matlock.
Putting you in these clothes gave me such a picture of you as a little boy…and I know it won’t be long before you are tagging along with Daddy at the golf course. I can’t wait to snap that picture – I already have it composed in my head.
Speaking of Daddy…he finally dropped a nickname on you that we have all breathlessly awaited – “Sport”. You see, your great-grandfather, Botsie, called your Daddy that when he was a boy. He was the first in a long line of Sports in the family. So, of course, we all assumed you, too, would be a Sport.
Daddy (for some odd reason) said you could only be a Sport when you did something “Sport”-like. I have no idea what this means and immediately asked exactly what it was that HE did that made him a Sport. He had no idea. But, somehow, you had this imaginary milestone or hurdle you had to cross before he could call you Sport. Congratulations. You made it. And I think you are the Sportiest Sport in All the Land.
In other news, your hair is still blonde (!!) and is coming in nicely. I even played with it the other day and made a little baby combover. Okay, I thought it was funny.
Your eyes are still the most beautiful color of blue. I’m sure somewhere there is an ocean that is that exact color and one day I hope to see it. Until then, I’ll just fall head first into those laughing eyes of yours and curl my toes in our sand colored carpet.
I love you, Little Man.
Month Eight. Done.