You’re still my baby, but not for long.
You still gaze at me with your big eyes that say “pickmeuppickmeuppickmeup” and then snuggle into my neck when I hold you close. You still giggle with delight at your sister when she makes funny noises. You can be grouchy inside the house, but as soon as we take you outside into the garden, you can stare happily at the sky and the birds and the trees in the wind.
You’ve got two bottom teeth and your two front teeth are coming through. I can see them when you laugh. You’ve FINALLY started sleeping through the night but not always – sometimes you want water when the weather’s very hot.
You love sitting in a cardboard box with your toys, chewing on the remote control and anything else that has buttons (including your parents’ very germ ridden cellphones). You finally learnt how to sit at eight months and are now trying very hard to crawl.
The nurse says you are in the 25th percentile for height and weight, so you’re probably not going to be very large. But your head circumference is in the 120th percentile, which is apparently why you took so long to sit. I don’t think this means you will be brainy but the nurse keeps joking that you will.
I can’t bear that you are nearly a year old – and that soon there will be no BABY in the house.
I want to freeze time. Often. Because although you are MINE at the moment, soon you will belong to more than just me.
Please don’t grow up. It makes me too happy and too sad – all at the same time.
“A first child is your own best foot forward, and how you do cheer those little feet as they strike out. You examine every turn of flesh for precocity, and crow it to the world. But the last one: the baby who trails her scent like a flag of surrender through your life when there will be no more coming after–oh, that’ s love by a different name.”
Barbara Kingsolver (The Poisonwood Bible)