As you get older, days begin to fly by, and before you know it, weeks turn to months, and months turn to years. Before Arlo was born, I had all the time in the world to write him letters; but after he was born, that time was cut in half. By the time you came along, Arlo had just turned two and I had a newborn at home, so it became harder then ever to write to you as much as I’d like.
Since I wrote to you last, you’ve changed so much. You started to push yourself across the floor, and roll over. Some times you’ll even hold your own bottles. When you started trying to grab our food, we took that as an interest in eating solid foods. You struggled on your first try, but you quickly became a master, and now eat on pace with someone trying to break a record for the fastest time for eating a smushed banana. You’re sitting up on your own, and you just had your lower-left front tooth break through.
Each of these steps are completely monumental and deserve their own dedicated letter praising you for your brilliance on mastering all of life’s little puzzles. But for now, a paragraph will have to do, because most nights and mornings I’m too busy holding you and giving you tons of kisses, and chasing your brother around in circles (often at the same time). I can’t even believe where time has gone. I woke up one day to change your diaper, shortly after bringing you how from the hospital, and found a six-month-old little girl, giggling, bright eyed, and squirmy as can be.
You’ve still got your adorable little pixie haircut you were born with, and are only now just growing into, although we’re still not sure if your blonde or strawberry blonde. You also still have your squishy little cheeks, which i love to kiss. You are such a happy baby who genuinely seems to love people. You search for eye contact, and when you find it, you smile. When the person smiles back, you smirk, showing off your dimples, and then let out a little giggle.
You’re still trying to talk, but the sound is now more akin to a dolphin or blue whale, than a cat fight. Even though we’ve already gone through this with Arlo, I can’t seem to remember the milestones. I’m tempted to go back and read my letters to him to find out when you’ll be crawling, or talking, when you’ll venture out for your first steps; but you’ll undoubtably be your own woman and will get to these things when you’re ready.
As cliché as it sounds, it seems like only yesterday you were born, but when I think back, I can barely remember life before you arrived. One night your mom made the comment, “I didn’t realize something was missing, until she arrived. Now we’re complete.” We are.
I love you so much, my baby girl.