December 4th, 2005

Dear Jack,

You are six months old this week. One half of a year of life under your belt. Or rather, your onesie. Diaper? You get the idea.

You, my child, have come a long way. Just mere months ago, you were this screaming, slightly scarey, little ball of nebulousness. Cute, mind you, damn cute! But a bit intense for your poor parents. Now you are a little person, a sweet little boy. Complete with giggles and coos and the capacity to stick both fists and feet in your mouth at the same time. Yes, this grabbing of things and shoving them into your mouth like Uncle Joey T. on BBQ Chicken Wings Night is the new black around Jack’s apartment. You can’t get enough of the grabbing and the chewing. Anything goes. My chin, your dad’s neck, the camcorder, my students’ final papers. You name it, you eat it.

And the drool! Did I mention the drool? Like a St. Bernard! Oddly enough, I don’t mind swiping my bare hand across your slobbering face to wipe you up. And once you even drooled directly into my mouth, and I can honestly say I didn’t much care. And that’s saying a lot, as I’m a bit of a freak about those kind of things.

You can sit up on your own now. You’re a bit wobbly, but you are learning to catch yourself. And it makes me so proud to watch you, but I also know what it means. Today, I get to help you balance precariously from side to side, and every day you’ll need my help a little bit less. I love watching you grow, but I also can’t help wanting to make time stop here, for just a little bit longer, where I get to catch you every time.

Happy six months old, baby. I am so lucky to be your mama.

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Posted by: Sarah on December 4th, 2005
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