You are crawling, making our lives even less boring than before. No cable is too filled with electricity, no dog toy too covered with hair and slobber, no piece of dirt (I just typed "durt" at first...do you see what you are doing to my brain here?) too small for your prying little hands. You hear "Harper! No!" a lot, and it makes me feel kind of bad ... for both of us. I know you understand me, and you have two reactions you show, depending on time of day, degree of wakefulness and moisture indexof your diaper: ignoring or crying. Either way, it means a lot of action for both of us: Me picking you up and carrying you away from things, and you doing your best to get back. You should check out my biceps, kid!
Where ever you are, Lilly is not far behind, although she would never really admit that she loves you. Now that she has realized that you are an ever-giving source of chunks of food — both large and small, tasty and so-so — she does her best to stay as close to you as possible, at least during meals. The other day we made the mistake of leaving the two of you on the balcony unattended with a plastic box of avocado slices:
And last night we watched you deliberately feed that dog your cracker. She'd be stupid to not be your BFF. Your first word is most certainly going to be Lilly. Or it is already. You don't really enunciate that well.
You've really taken to this whole real-food eating business, but getting you fed, washed and ready for bed is currently the most exhausting mommy triathalon. We are big advocates of letting you feed yourself — and letting Lilly take care of the rest — but this always, always results in goo galore. Since it's summer, we do most of our eating sitting on the balcony ... on the ground. And now we can no longer trick you with baby-ized versions of food if your father and I don't have the same on our plates. We had dinner with friends the other night, and since there was no highchair, you got to sit on my lap, where you totally ignored the zucchini-carrot patties I had made you and proceeded to shovel handfuls of greek pasta from my plate into your mouth. And bread with tzaziki. Of course, the farting concert that night was glorious.
Anyway, all this crawling and sort of halfheartedly pulling up on things and whatnot makes it hard to believe that you are the same little helpless baby we brought home eight months ago. You, the reason I washed my hands so much last winter that they became painfully cracked and dry, are now scooting across the floor that is never free of dog hair, on your way to put something dog slobbery and furry into your mouth. The best is when I am trying to cook, and both you and the dog make yourselves comfortable around my ankles. I'm guessing Lilly has told you about how sometimes tasty tidbits fall from the sky.
Love,
Mama
This month's nicknames: Ms. Bear, Harper Bear, Baby Bear, Crunchy Bear, Baby Gaga, Gum Gum, Gummy Joe, Ms. Wobbles
This month's song: Cartoons and Forever Plans by Maria Taylor with Michael Stipe
1 comment:
Have I mentioned how much I love this blog?? It's kind of ridiculous that I get all excited because Harper's another month older and I know that means a "Dear Harper" entry.
But that should tell you- it's pure gold, baby! Harper is going to have a blast reading these someday. When she's, like, 2 or something.
Witty and sweet, and it's pretty cool just to see how much her abilities and behavior change in such a short time. Plus, I get an immense kick out of her evolving relationship with Lilly- it's like a Disney story, but, you know, not lame.
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