Today in Relief Society you sat in your car seat and rocked yourself happily to the rhythm of the hymns, looking around and smiling your big baby smile at anyone who would catch your eye. You are an enormous flirt and do the most delightful things with your face while feeling flirtatious: the double-eyebrow raise, which I personally favor, plus a hands-to-the-face-bashful-half-turn grin that I'm sure will melt the heart of many a little girl in years to come.
Through your first few months, you were uncomfortable and cried a lot, but since those difficult days you have become a delightfully happy little person, a sweet presence of calm warmth and light in our home. One day I was holding you in my lap and you were studiously looking at the world around us, cheeks puffed and eyes squinted like an old man reading the evening news. You rotated your head, looking first left-- then center, where you saw my face and lit up into a smile--then right, where you immediately settled back into your analytical frown.
You can often be heard singing high-pitched whale songs to yourself-- squeals that climb and dip and slide at melancholy intervals. This suits you in that you are big and blubbery (and lovable) like a whale.
You are your daddy's little boy. He just positively lights up when he sees you, and I frequently catch you gazing at him, aglow with admiration. He loves to rock you to sleep at night. He'll frequently take you from me so he can put you to bed.
Soren is a also source of fascination for you. You seem to really love and look up to him. And he loves you. Sometimes. He's always excited when you wake up in the morning. And he loves watching the way your eyes get big and googly when we pull the car into the dark garage. He'll do anything to make you laugh. NOTHING makes him happier than making you laugh. He also likes to make you cry, unfortunately, and continues to lash out at you at the most unexpected moments. This does not seem to have dampened your love for him, though, and you continue to smile when he comes into a room.
A rare violence-free moment between Soren and Liam.
So you are sweet. But you are also stubborn. After three weeks of letting you cry it out at night, I finally gave up and brought you back into the big people bed, where you contentedly nurse all night long, stretch out, and hog the bed like a spoiled Persian cat.
And there are places you do not like. Doctor's officers are one of those places. I don't know if you still retain memories of your hospitalization or if it's an unconscious thing, but whenever I take you in for checkups you cry and cry and cry. Whereas most people comment on your blithe personality, at your six month checkup the PA looking at you asked if you were a melancholy baby, taking things a little more seriously than most. (Incidentally, at your six month checkup you weighed in at 22 pounds (98th percentile), measured 26 1/2 inches long (95th percentile), and bore a cranium so large it measured off the charts.)
And that about wraps it up for this month.
So, to our little Mr. Rainbow-sunshine-sugar-spice-sweetness: we love you.
P.S. As I read through this letter, I've noticed that, amid all my talk of your cheerful personality, every single one of these pictures of you are serious. So you're just going to have to believe me. You are very smiley and happy. Honest.