Eight months is when you officially became dangerous.
First, you sprouted two little razor teeth, giving your ubiquitous sunny smile a maniacal gleam.
Then, you quickly became a very proficient crawler.
In retrospect, we were lucky with Cecilia. Always a bigger baby, and without siblings or energetic puppies to spur her on, she really saw no reason to waste any energy in forward movement. Why spend all those calories when you had two first-time, doting parents to kowtow to your every whim? She took her time. She, quite literally, backed into crawling, spending a solid six weeks sluggishly going in reverse. In short, she was more an F-150 loaded with a bed of cinder blocks. You are more snappy Mini Cooper with a double espresso for fuel.
Once you got up onto all fours and found some traction with your new sneakers, you were doing laps through the kitchen, living room and dining room. You were giving Dash no quarter, chasing him down or trying to go through his legs. You needed to know now (!) what was on every tabletop or piece of furniture. Your life depended on it. And don’t get me started on big sister. If she made a noise in the house, it was your personal mission to find her and rescue her. You would not be denied.
With your new chompers, you quickly grew tired of boring pureed food, even if it was in a space-age tube (the tube food blew GiGi’s mind). You wanted puffs, Cheerios, peas, square carrots and macaroni. If it didn’t meet your emerging Michelin standards you were quick to let us know, swiping anything off your tray in a furious windmill. Dash was delighted. Mama was not.
Her model face
Relaxing on the swings
In the fort
The key is early PJs
Sesuit harbor rocks
Hanging by the pool
It’s an important ritual in every New England child’s life: the first lobster. Another milestone passed with flying colors. Ce showed no fear and was quite willing to put future dental work at risk for a taste of that sweet crustacean.
Cecilia’s love for fruit truly knows no bounds. I mean, she gets excited for food in general. Say the word, breakfast or dinner and she’ll literally drop what she’s doing and make a beeline for the high chair. But say the word blueberry or strawberry or peaches and it’s kick your feet, wiggle your butt, squeal excitement. So you can just imagine her reaction when Uncle Jeff made some fresh blueberry-peach jam on our recent visit to cousin Nathan’s house in DC. It was duck and cover time.
At first I thought it was a squirrel with a sophisticated palette. Then I caught her red handed! At least she only picks the ripe ones.
Cecilia discovered the joys (sweet delicious kernels) and the frustrations (sneaky, yucky silk) of corn on the cob during an active and patriotic holiday weekend at Grandmother and Papa’s house. Don’t take my word for it, check out the photo evidence below:
Life in baby land changes as quickly as Lola’s food stays in the bowl. Just when you think you have something down, its time to move onto a new phase. Cecilia is growing quicker than Jack’s beanstalk and with that growth means more food. No longer is Cecilia stricken to the doldrums of a liquid diet, but rather, she has had the opportunity to eat what The Books call “solids”. During her first feeding she grabbed onto the spoon like a skilled knight wielding a sword. She knew exactly where the spoon needed to go and had no problem taking it straight from her Mamma’s hands. However, once the food was in her mouth, Cecilia decided to spit it back out. In the end she was wearing her carrots as though they were the hottest new accessory in fashion. All in all, Cecilia seems to enjoy the eating experience which is definitely something she inherited from the DiLisi side. Now she just needs to start training for those 3 hour dinners.