nine months

Dear Daniel,

Three-fourths of the way through your first year. Out for as long as you were in. Nine. Months. Old.

No matter how you say it, it all boils down to the same thing -- you are growing up too, too fast. Lately you've seemed more little boy than baby, and while it is adorable, it makes me kind of wistful.

For starters, you are EVERYWHERE. Nothing is safe anymore, and more often than not, you are a danger to yourself. Crawling, often into such problematically small spaces as underneath chairs, and pulling yourself up to a stand wherever you can get a good grip, this exploration has led to a lot of painful bumps, falls, and rolls, but you seem to be coming out stronger and smarter in spite of it. It is only a matter of moments before you are cruising along the furniture and ultimately letting go of your safety hold altogether.

Some major milestones you reached this month include getting your first haircut (you hated it!); clapping (whenever you're happy and right on cue when someone says "yay!"); the cutting of your first top tooth (and judging by the apparent pain you've been in lately, its neighbor will be moving in soon); and feeding yourself soft finger foods (which has made mealtimes easier, albeit also messier, for me, and more fun for you).

You still have a hard time settling down to sleep, which has continued to make daily naps extremely difficult and occasionally non-existent. Your new-found vertical mobility has not helped matters, and neither has your recent distaste for binkies. You (I?) desperately need something to help you soothe yourself, and stat.

You are generally a happy, and always a very curious, baby. I think this whole growing up business suits you well.

I love you, sweet Danny Boy!

Love,
Mama