You are almost 1 year old.
You are almost 9 months “old.”
You are 16 and a half pounds.
You have no teeth yet.
You sit in your high chair.
When you’re nursing, you touch your head like you’re fixing your hair. Or sometimes you scratch your head. And sometimes you hit yourself in the head repeatedly.
You play peek-a-boo, covering your face with your hat.
You don’t want to go to bed at night, and when we move towards your crib, you erupt into enthusiastic chirping, talking, flapping your wings, as though you’re trying show how not-tired you are.
You sleep in a yellow chickie blanket sleeper.
You usually wake up very tender and need to be comforted, lulled back into the world.
You beat your chest with your hands like a monkey when you get excited.
You squeal when we kiss your tummy.
You look at me like I have a bounty of colorful feathers sprouting from my head when I speak to you in French.
You play your piano.
You laugh when I exclaim to you in made up words: “Frippple Fripple! Drrrrrrrraiken Draiken Draiken!”
You sit and pick things out of your wooden bucket one by one and examine each thing carefully, passing from hand to hand: a domino, a purple wooden block, a plastic star.
You bang, bat, hit, drum.
You haven’t wanted to crawl, yet. But you roll from one side of the living room to the other.
You perform acrobatics in your bouncy seat.
You love to scratch the couch.
You smell like heaven.
You love pears.
You look at me like I’m the greatest thing.
You have absolutely no interest in a sippy cup, putting your hand out to shield your face from it.
You read with great concentration.
You often sing when you’re done nursing.
You smile and kick your legs in excitement when we head out for our walks.
You love music.
You love your baths. You splash and kick and play with your pelican.
We always know when you’re pooping, because you grunt and make little fists held close to your body, and your face turns red.
You smile when we sing. You always want to socialize with us.
You jump excitedly in your jumper.
You chew on our hands.
You smile when we move towards the CD player.
You smile at yourself in the mirror.
You talk a lot: “brallla, mama, ba ba ba, amballlll, guh guh guh, tchrim, aircgh, ehnnnng, bagel, da da da da, awra-aya, je je je, jhzoom, wa wa, mam ba-ba .
You grab my hair and yank my head towards you. Then you try to get my whole chin in your mouth.
You make this face:
You bury your face in my chest when you meet someone new.
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