As summer closes with definitiviness (I picked the last tomatoes today and there’s a frost warning tonight) this post will be old news to most folks reading this, but when I’m reading this aloud at your wedding many, many years in the future, I think it’s important to have continuity. So a quick look back at your seventh month.
Actually, I’m not totally sure why I’m insisting on revisiting July as it mostly conjures up memories of late night nausea, cold sweats and general unpleasantness. On the Cape for Fourth, we were visited by a biblical plague that started with your big sister decorating the walls, bedding and floor with a colorful array of bodily fluids at 3 a.m. The virus quickly laid waste to both the entire house and the entire holiday weekend. We saw a few over the tree tops, but we mostly witnessed the wrong type of fireworks. Let’s just move on before I’m tempted to include more colorful descriptions.
One aspect of your personality that has emerged loud and clear is that you do not like to be strapped in to anything. High chair, car set, stroller. It doesn’t matter. You do not like having your wings clipped. You scream, squirm and lurch your little arms and legs around. We’re not sure the reason as you are not crawling yet. You’re just at the reach and tip over stage, but you let loose holy hell when you see straps and clips approaching.
Two things you definitely do like? Playing with Dash and swimming. Calling it ‘playing’ might be pretty generous at this point. It’s more interacting. One-sided interacting. You like grabbing him, feeling his fur and sampling his toys, which, to be fair, look very similar to yours. He’s handled it pretty well.
You definitely enjoy the water, pool or ocean, you don’t play favorites, as long as you can splash around and watch your big sister you are quite content. You’ll squeal, giggle and smile and make sure anyone in your general time zone gets as wet as you are.
One other thing before I go. You’ve started babbling quite a bit this month and have Mama down pretty well. You keep repeating Da, De, Dah. Your Mom says we’ll never know if you’re trying to say Dash or Dad or something else, but we both know what it really is, right?