Eight Months

Dear Avery Dale,

I sound like a broken record, but where did the past eight months go? Weren't you born just last week? And now you're all over the place: crawling, pulling up, walking your way around the coffee table. If there's anywhere in the house you want to be, you can definitely make your way there with the cutest crawl I've ever seen.

Everyone said, "Just you wait / when she starts crawling life is over / everything changes once they're mobile / etc." That was a load of crap. Just like Dante, you are a pack animal, and you want nothing more than to be RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE of your pack. I've eaten many a supper with you pulled up against my chair, and I can't tell you how many times I've almost broken my neck trying not to step on you. You especially like to help me load the dishwasher, and I have to keep you from crawling in to retrieve your favorite toys - knives. But it's wonderful and lovely, and we wouldn't have it any other way.

You like to help me with whatever I'm doing - filing to polishing the silver - and I'm having a great time giving you loads of babywork.
Bathtime is still your favorite. We bought you a set of ten little sea creatures that squirt water at you. You find them all absolutely hysterical, especially the walrus, and if we squirt water directly into your mouth, you chortle with glee.
The windowsills are your favorite places to be, and they're all grimy with drool. Mike had to go around with the vacuum cleaner and suck up dirt and dead spiders between the screens and panes because you think that stuff tastes great.
You have perfected "cheesy-face."
Did I mention? You adore the water, no matter how you can get into it.
You always take life - and the goats - by the horns. You are fearless. You lunge for the vacuum cleaner, even when I threaten to suck up your toes with it. You have taught me so clearly to carpe diem and reach for goals that I thought I might never accomplish.
You have become QUITE the talker. You will look directly at Mike Peacock and say, "Da-da-daaaaa," but he insists that you're just babbling. Little does he know that you don't do that to anybody else. You also like to sing and have the sweetest voice, especially in the morning, when you come up to me and sing, "Tht-thee-thelll-thththmmmmma." I know exactly what you mean.
You are the light of our lives, and we love you more every day. Thank you for coming to stay with us for awhile. Every day is Christmas with you.

Love you,

Mama