Eight months

Where did the last eight months go? My tiny (furry) baby has grown into this round-cheeked boy with two pearly teeth who laughs, babbles and sings constantly, has a favorite blankie, loves toy cars, and no longer fits in his infant carseat.




Oh, I love this boy and his cheeks and his dolphin-like vocalizations. He is the joy of my life. I love his little fat hands with a dimple at the base of every finger, and his enormously wide grin, and the way he still rapturously kicks his chubby little feet every time he gets excited. I love the way he's starting to reach his arms out towards me when he wants me to pick him up. I love the way he daintily picks up a pea with two fingers of his right hand and a banana chunk with the entire fist of his left hand, and the way he voraciously stuffs soft fluffy things in his mouth whenever he finds a blanket or sheepskin unattended. I love his giggles and his sad faces and the little tuft of hair that waves in the wind from the top of his head, and his big hazel eyes with their long lashes, and his happy-go-lucky personality that makes him the sunshine of our little family.