You’re six months old today. Where did the time go? It seems like just yesterday I was bringing you home from the hospital in your too big fire truck pajamas that grandpa gave you. The next six months are going to fly by and soon you’ll be cruising around the house, babbling away at no one in particular. I can’t wait.
I’ve stashed away outfits and onsies that are too tiny for your growing self to fit in. I know I could donate them, but I can’t seem to part with some, like the tiny giraffe dress your Uncle Richard picked out for you. Even when it was getting too short and your baby tummy peeked out the bottom, I wanted you to wear it forever.
You sleep through the night (though you have for months and months now) but you’re so independent now you don’t even cry when you get stuck on your tummy and can’t roll back. You just sleep on your tummy with your little tush sticking up in the air.
You’re growing up so fast. But, I hope you never forget how much you love it when I smother your cheeks in kisses. You giggle so hard you forget to breathe and do a half giggle-half snort noise. When you’re older and you think kisses from Mom are lame, I hope you remember how much you loved them. I hope that I always remember the look of wonder you have when you take my face in your little hands and smush it around. I don’t care how many times I have to clean my glasses because of smudgy little fingerprints. You can smush my face all day if you want.
I love you nugget and I can’t wait to see what the next six months bring.