eight months

Dear Matthew,

At only eight months of age you can boast that you've driven halfway across the country. Three days ago we embarked on a road trip that took you south along the Eastern Seaboard, then west through the Deep South en route to Grandma Joyce and Grandpa Gary's house in Texas. You handled being restrained in a car seat for two very long days remarkably well, but you grew positively (and adorably) giddy every time we stopped to get out and stretch our legs. Your first Christmas will be spent in San Antonio alongside your aunts, uncles, and cousins, two of which, Hannah and Abby, are your very same age. It's already been fun to watch you interact with everyone.

This month you tucked a few more tricks up your sleeve. You've just about mastered sitting up without support, and you've started reaching for things you see from that position (which is usually the reason why you lose your balance). And speaking of reaching, what keeps you busiest these days is grabbing at everything. You grab to the point of distraction, requiring me to frequently re-focus you back to whatever task is at hand (usually eating). The more you practice, however, the more precise your ability is becoming. You've a bit to go before you master the pincer grasp, but you are well on your way. Which will surely be of use to you because another thing you love to do is eat. Your palate is ever-increasing and you're just itching to stuff your face all by yourself.

You are generally pretty easy going, and you share your smiles with everyone. Your happiness is infectious, and the joy your laughter brings into our home brightens my day. Every day you seem less like a baby and more like a little boy. But I love you, Matthew, even though I can't keep you tiny forever, and relish the fact that you are mine.

Love,
Mama