Today my baby is 8 months old. Pinch me. I'm so (nearly) inexplicably happy about this because in the early months of this journey I did not think I had it in me. But 8 months sounds substantial. An impressive accumulation of parenting moments. Hallelujah! I'm, you know, like, proud of myself. And, oh goodness in breathlessness and joy, is he ever cute. I love the sound of it - 8 months old. "How old is your baby?" "Eight months." See, that's me now.
To celebrate, I made him watch the recording of last night's episode of The Daily Show so he could see President Obama and John Stewart in all their role-model glory. Thank the heavens for both those men.
I can report that Buckaroo is NOT crawling yet, which is fine with me. He makes a scooty motion when he's sort of on all-fours. And he's good at covering some distance when he scoots in a sitting-up position. But that's it. He's so close, its obvious. But we still need to finish the banister upstairs and I really am not looking forward to keeping the floor clean and void of choking hazards.
In other news, October continues to be my most favorite month - hands down. Crisp and blustery weather! Fewer spiders! Coziness! Children in adorable costumes! Adults in inappropriately slutty costumes! Well, not around here, not with the slutty costumes. Farmers and hippies and artists don't do that.
Tonight is a jack-o-lantern party at our friends' house. So adorable. So very much in the land of families and stuff. I feel blessed.
Also, Buckaroo just took a proper nap. That's the best thing ever. EVARHHH.
Boo!
No comments:
Post a Comment