Month Seven

7months 003
Originally uploaded by briannedrlich.

Dear Squirmy Baby Abe-


Today you are seven months old. I feel like you have exited infancy and are truly a baby’s baby. Sort of like how I am well into my 20s. You are well into your babyness.


You are growing out of all of your “baby” clothes, and now are wearing “big boy” clothes. I went to the store to buy you some shorts, because Grandma Jillsy was dressing you in some crazy outfits. I bought you some basketball shorts just like daddy. I bet he will dress you in matching outfits all summer, and parade you around to all of the stores just so someone will say how cute you are. (He tries that a lot now). I also had to buy you some summer pjs, and found that you are too big for baby pjs. I got you some big boy pjs -- without feet.

You are also outgrowing your “baby” toys. Instead of studying your little Farm/piano/keeper of the most annoying voice in the world, you masterfully pound away on the keys, spin the ducks swimming in the pond, and hit the pig behind your back. I am getting ready to take the toy away from you because – a) if I hear “Red! Red like the barn! Blue! Blue like the pond! Yellow! Yellow like the sun!” one more time, I am going to stab myself in the eyes, and b) I don’t think it was meant to be lifted above babies’ heads, or flipped upside down and played like a drum. I believe you have lost interest with the toy.

Pretty soon you are going to be crawling everywhere, but you have not yet figured out how to go two consecutive steps. You can rock your little booty, take one crawling step forward, go backward, and then you’re finished. You prefer to scale large objects and like to climb more than crawl. I know this is not a good preview of things to come. (I will not allow you to be a part of the Jackass franchise if they are still around when you are big. Just FYI.) You have also mastered the “Downward Facing Dog” position, which I find to be quite impressive for a seven month old. Maybe you will be the world’s youngest yoga instructor, and have classes for children around the neighborhood. I would be okay with that.


You have also mastered eating, and have tried every type of strained food that is out there. You like everything except peaches. You HATE peaches. You will not even open your mouth at the sight of them. I don’t think I ate one peach while pregnant with you, so that could be the problem. You eat those green beans, though, and let me tell you when I catch a whiff of them I throw up a little.

Last weekend I took you to Broad Ripple on a Sunday afternoon to meet some friends. You rode along in your little stroller, looking around at everyone. You flirted with the ladies. You clapped your hands. You made noises so people would notice you. You were a good boy. There was a man with his girlfriend sitting at the table behind us, and he looked at you and said that you were the best looking baby he had ever seen. While this was very nice of him, it was a little weird. I mean, of course I think you are the cutest baby ever, but some random guy in Broad Ripple? Then, he said, “Young lady with the baby – your son has a lot of promise.” And, it wasn’t just what he said, but it was the seriousness in which he said it, like Gandalf telling the hobbits they were in grave danger.


And, you know, if it were any other kid I would probably just chock it up to a random drunk guy making wild claims like” the earth is flat,” or that the combination of warm weather and alcohol was making him delirious. But, you are my kid, and I totally agreed with him. In fact, I couldn’t think of a truer statement. I think you have all the promise in the world, and I can’t wait to see the person you become. But, I don’t think you would have to do anything like cure cancer or win the Heisman Trophy, because just being you is good enough. I am already so proud to be your mama, even at seven months old.


Love,
Mama