You’ve really seemed to come into your own over the past few days – both to know your own self a bit and to seem distinctively you, and not just a baby to others. Your Aunt Sam, along with Granny-mom, is smitten with you. And for good reason – you were perfect company – talking with everyone in your eager, wide-eyed way, chomping happily on a butter plate throughout our somewhat fancy lunch, and dropping happily to sleep when it was time to shop. Though your need/desire to chew can sometimes frustrate you to tears, you’re generally such pleasant company. Happy with a little funny noise or smile in your direction. Today we were at Starbucks and, by the counter where I was waiting for my coffee there was a bin of stuffed animals – bears with hooded jackets that looked like chicks (not unlike you in your lion suit). I wiggled it towards you – not expecting much – and you laughed out loud. It’s such a (so far) rare and wonderful sound that I’ve become obsessed with it and I’m sure annoy you with my feeble (and mostly futile) attempts to be funny.

It’s a little hard to tell about your chewing, since you tend to stop when you’ve been fed, though not always. You’ve become so physically able. You stand rock solid now, not a wiggle to your neck and shoulders like there used to be – a sweet little palsy that reminded me how little you were (are), and are clearly moving towards sitting now – you’re able to keep your back straight now but still have [to have] lateral support. If you reach for something from a sitting position (and you always reach) you topple right over.

Though you’re still easily redirected, your are remarkably tenacious if you’ve decided on something. Today in the bath you WANTED the frog toy and chased all over the bath to get it. You got a funny, quizzical look on your face when your traditional strategy of moving an object toward you (batting at it) failed to work as you merely pushed the toy under water, only to pop up again someplace else.

But even your batting has become so much more fluid, you focus and hands now synchronized whereas before you seemed to need to move towards objects in stages, one layer of focus at a time.

Dad’s entry:

I love the snuggly and you seem to as well. You ride face out, arms and legs extended, eyes wide like a little baby sunburst shining out on the world. Early Sunday morning, March 21, 50 degrees, sunny with little wind. We walked to Inman Square for coffee and bagels and lox. People say hi to you and wave at you and occasionally don’t even look at me. I don’t mind ’cause it makes it like we’re one person who doesn’t require two greetings. You coo and nap and crane your head around so you don’t miss anything and you’re almost always happy in the snuggly, walking and walking, like your Ma, you’ll walk forever. When it’s cold I have a fluffy-big down coat that fits around both of us (maybe there’s a picture somewhere), and your little head sticks out at the top of my chest, and we walk and walk and get coffee and say “hi” to people.