This month has been so tremendous, I don't even know where to begin. You've grown so much in the past few weeks that I struggle every day not to become one of those parents who talks incessantly about their children. Then other times I say screw it. You're totally brag worthy.
I'd like to take credit for your recent milestones, but you've attained them all on your own. In fact, you attained them in spite of me. The problem is, you've never been much for tummy time. When I put you on your stomach, you protest wildly, creating sounds I didn't think humans could make -- high-pitched screaches that probably feel more at home among hyenas.
So when I heard those sounds, a voice inside my head said, "AAAaahhh! I'm killing my baby!" And I scrambled to pick you up.
In reality, you need time on your stomach to develop the muscles necessary to ensure that you won't need me to carry you around when you're 30. Muscles for holding your head up, which every book and website said you're supposed to be able to do by now.
So just when I started to freak out that you were never going to make your three-month milestones and I had completely derailed your physical development, you picked your head up with ease and held it there for several minutes.
I could practically hear you thinking, "See? What's the big fuss all about?"
Now tummy time has become a favorite activity in our house. You love it because you can see more than just the ceiling. Toby loves it because you drool all over and he gets to sniff the wet spots. And your father and I love it because you look hilarious.
If we had a green screen and knew how to use it, instead of writing this right now, I would be busy composing a video of you flying like a superhero over the city of Manhattan. You work so hard to keep your head up that your arms are glued to your sides and your feet sort of kick off the ground. All you need is a red cape and a wind machine and you would look like you were soaring through the clouds.
I'm sorry to say that I don't have the capability to make that video. Without a doubt, it would be a YouTube sensation.
The easiest way to get you to smile has always been sticking our tongues out at you and making farting noises. Your grandma kept saying, "Keep it up and one of these days she's gonna do it back." I'm pretty sure she meant it as a threat, but I took it as encouragement.
So we kept doing it. And doing it. And doing it some more.
And just this week you did it back. I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. You must've been so impressed with the reaction you received that now you do it constantly. First thing in the morning? Farting noises. When you're on the floor playing? Farting noises. After you're done eating? Farting noises.
You always look so pleased with yourself. It's your first attempt at interaction and you must feel understood. You're happy that I get you and your farting sounds.
And believe me, I do.
Although, were they really necessary when you were pooping all over the changing table? Making a gigantic mess of your clothes, the clean diaper I had just placed under you, the changing pad and my sleeves?
There you were, just pooping and making farting sounds, waiting for me to cheer you on.
And believe me, I did.
You also discovered your hands this month and if you could, I think you'd give them four stars. Sometimes you try and fit all 10 fingers in your mouth, but mostly get stuck around eight because your thumbs don't want to cooperate.
I know exactly what you do in there because you like to do the same thing with my fingers -- chomp down.
A few nights ago, you didn't want to sit still during dinner, so I picked you up and put you on my lap while your father was finishing his meal. Since I was done, I let you grab and play with my hands. I shouldn't have been surprised when you shoved my thumb right into your mouth because that's your favorite thing to do these days. Anything your little fists manage to grasp is likely to be gnawed on.
Well, my thumb wasn't enough apparently, so you decided to chew on the side of my hand like it was an ear of corn. And all of the smacking and drooling had your father so grossed out that he started gagging and carrying on as if someone had told him his meal had been dipped in the toilet before he consumed it.
The whole thing was incredibly entertaining.
I hope you learn how to high-five next month.
There are so many other changes that I couldn't possibly list them all, but I'm sure the moments will be forever solidified in my memory.
Like on my 30th birthday when you finally figured out the concept of toys. Grandma and I were sitting in the back seat of our car with you between us and you just sort of grabbed the stuffed animal we had placed in front of you, focused on it, shook it and crammed it in your mouth.
Later that night, everyone told me to make a wish as I blew out my candles, but you know what? I honestly couldn't think of one.
I just kept thinking about my wish from last year.
I wished for you.
And everyday I'm grateful that it came true.