Dear Lyra,
Happy 9 month birthday!
This past month you have achieved so much that I’m starting to feel like you won’t be my little baby for much longer. You started pulling up to standing in your crib, and then you did it on the coffee table and the couch and pretty much all the furniture. You crawl a few steps on hands and knees, but mostly zoom around on your belly. You can get to a sitting position without any help. You eat pretty much everything your dad and I do, but you really love beans and bread and carrots. You rarely miss when feeding yourself, but you purposely drop a lot of food for Ada. You respond to questions like, “Where is the bee?” by looking — it’s on the mobile above your changing table — and waving excitedly. Your hair is so long that we often clip it to the side and out of your eyes. You give giant smiles to strangers on the street. You brighten a lot of people’s days.
This month I am writing to you while you sleep in my arms, gently rocking in the glider chair in your room. I could probably put you down in your crib but today I want to hold you so that I can savor this feeling. In about half an hour I’ll have to wake you up so that you and your dad can go to swimming lessons. Your breath is heavy and loud enough for me to hear over the whooshing of the white noise machine. Your head is nestled in the crook of my elbow — you fell asleep nursing — and your body faces toward me. Your legs dangle over my thigh. You are so long that we have to sit at an angle in the chair. It is dark and cozy. I am relaxed but not sleepy; you slept well last night so I did too.
There is no place I would rather be.
Love,
Mama
