Half-Birthday

Pumpkin. Buggy-boo. Munchkin. You are six months old today. I don’t know where the last six months went. I see little nine week old babies and assume you are still the same little bundle instead of your 16+lbs of thigh rolls.

You roll over. You are sitting up more and more on your own. You grab. You eat and eat and eat. You’re beginning to learn that rice cereal ain’t nothing compared to the tantalizing tastes of bananas and sweet potatoes. You also seem to prefer the real food on our plates than the mashed up fruits and veggies we serve you, making a grab for anything within your reach and appearing insulted when we eat in front of you.
You love to play. Shaking and flailing objects with your arms is a favorite. You drool and chew on anything within reach. You want to know everything that your big brother is doing. Peanut is your everything and no matter how he tortures you by teasing you with things you can’t have or popping you on the head with a toy, you smile, giggle, laugh and squeal in his presence. In fact, you’ve started to imitate the annoying scream that we’ve been trying to break Peanut of – the two of you get going and you both think it’s hilarious. And don’t even get me started on how you egg each other on once you start splashing in the bath tub.
You smile, smile, smile. Full-face smiles full of drooly cheeks and shining eyes. You are beyond ticklish and I admit to selfishly tickling you for the giggles that result.
You are all baby. I used to comment on your older brother’s “big boy face” when he was a baby. So far, I haven’t seen yours. I don’t know if I’m simply holding onto your babyhood too tightly to see it, but I’m in love with your babyness. I nuzzle into it, wrap my mother’s heart in its warmth and never want to let it go.
I can’t believe we’re on the slippery slope to your first birthday. Somehow I’m going to keep you a baby forever. And some poor woman in your future will forever hate that I can’t see you as anything more than my little snuggle bug of sweet smelling baby goodness. I hope that you and this future mate will have children and one day lay cuddling in bed with your own young’uns between you. Kissing their heads and tickling their toes, you will finally understand.
And maybe that same day you will see your old mom and let her hug you a little longer than your adult self usually does knowing that you will always be my baby.
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