two weeks ago, you turned six months old, which is difficult for your sentimental moms to say out loud. you celebrated such a milestone with all kinds of developmental changes, the most dramatic of which being that you are no longer a horizontal baby. no, sir. one day, some major shift happened; you simply said “hey y’all? i’m done lying down. i’ma sit up now.” and you’ve been sitting up, with minimal assistance, ever since. see?
last week, you and i headed over the the pediatrician’s office for your six month well check. want some stats? here you go:
you weigh about 19 1/2 lbs.
you are 28 1/4 inches tall.
these measurements make you officially long and lean. the 12-18 month clothes you wear clearly back up such an assessment.
so yeah, you are a fast-growing baby, and i confess that sometimes i want to squeeze you (ahem, gently) and keep you small. because already, you’ve got your eye on doing kid things. if jude and i are playing thomastrains, you must also hold a train. when jude does something reckless and/or funny, you laugh a kid laugh, deep from your belly. your eyes glinmer with the desire to crawl, to run, to climb. you drool in anticipation.
and you flaunt your talents. you offer a flirty smile as you lift your hands in a “so big!” gesture on command. you expertly pass toys from hand to hand. you throw back a sippy cup full of water like it’s an ice cold brew. you sign “milk” and “more”. and i am convinced you say “mama” with intent. also, EC continues to work like a charm with you. i don’t even remember the last time you had a load in your diaper.
you understand so much, my son. you are a kid in a baby’s body.
i wish i could find some pithy, cliche-free way of describing how much i adore you, and i apologize that everything i say drips with sentimentality, but that’s all i gots; i’m learning to simply own my sappiness.
you continue to be a jolly, mellow boy. your smiles and giggles are delicious. you laugh when we laugh, and then you snort and cough. oh, but your temper has definitely begun to show itself. seriously. if jude takes a toy away from you, you let her have it with the yelling and the coughing and the yelling. so far, your kvetching has been enough to prompt her to return whatever she stole.
oh, and oy. the damned teething. when, oh when will those horrible bottom teeth cut through? your mouth is full of raging, swollen nubs of awfulness. the boob definitely brings great comfort, but when i’m at work? mama has to keep you medicated to keep you happy. we’ve thought about giving you whiskey (shots, not just on the gums), but we’ll wait until your adoption is finalized before engaging in such risky behaviors. also, you’ve given up alcohol for lent by default.
speaking of your adoption, your too-busy mommy JUST sent off the travis county-required FBI background checks: the last bit of frustrating paperwork necessary to get you properly adopted by your mama. once those are back–6 weeks? 12 weeks?–we’ll go before the judge and make it official. also, hopefully by the time you’re an adult, mama’s name will legally be on your birth certificate. if not, get the hell out of texas, zig. and take us with you. while you’re at it, buy us a house with lots of land and a porch swing. and fully fund our trips to italy.
we thank you in advance.
i love you, my isaac silas. you most certainly did, in fact, hang the moon.