You’re six months old. Already. I have no idea how that happened.
Although, having said that, it’s been pretty busy between Christmas, holidays, your big brother starting school etc. And yet, you’ve just slotted in, as third babies tend to, and come along for the ride.
And aren’t you lovely? You’re just like your siblings; you’re refluxy (possibly the most vomity though), you don’t sleep very well and you get upset when I indulge in dairy foods. You look just like Beanie, and you have since day one, though you have your own look. You have the same bright, blue eyes with the dark ring, just like the others, but your hair is your own – it’s brown and so baby soft, and sticks up wildly when we remember to give it a shampoo.
When you’re comfortable, you are so happy. The made up word that’s used so often these days – chillaxed – describes you to a tee. You’re happy to watch everyone else run around; you love to smile at your family. You don’t talk a lot, but when you do, you’re a chatterbox of coos. Your laughter is so sweet, and you love to be scared and knock people over (with help, of course).
You love to jump in the jolly jumper, and you love to go for walks in the pram and the baby sling and watch the world go by. You’re great at rolling now, though it took a while to learn to get off your belly, and you’re on the move, pushing yourself around the place. You’re starting to learn to sit up, although you’re pretty wobbly, as are most babies your age.
You love your giggling sunshine toy and your striped monkey. You like a dummy when it suits you, but never when you really need it.
You like sweet potato, pumpkin, pear and apple; you threw up when I gave you potato, banana and oats. You just got your first tooth – front bottom right.
You’re a big mumma’s girl and when you’re tired, no one else will do.
Sweet girl, you are loved. You are joy to so many, and extra special after a difficult pregnancy and the constant challenge that is your beloved sister. You’re asleep in my arms right now; your long eyelashes so beautiful against your delicate features.
You’re not a newborn anymore. You’ll be growing up a lot in these next six months, and what a delight that will be. I can’t wait.