Letter to Lucia: 10 Months
Little Lucia,
You’re ten months old today—and you’re on the move. Though you haven’t (yet) transitioned from your inchworm-style crawl into a more traditional hands-and-knees crawl, this doesn’t slow you down, and you have explored every corner of your new Brooklyn home. You are an expert now at going from a crawl to sitting and back again, and you have such an ingenious, and amazing, way of doing it: you stretch your legs out on either side of your body, forming a straight line of leg from toe to toe, and simply work your way upward or downward, depending on how you want to move. When your legs are stretched out that way, you look like one of those gift-store sandbaggy items meant to stop drafts from coming from the bottoms of doors. If we sat you there, you’d be quite effective at it. I’m still amazed that you taught yourself how to go from lying down to sitting—you just did it one day, with no prompting or coaching or practicing. You wanted to do it, and you did.
You are now waving hello and bye-bye on command—but sometimes you wait to wave bye-bye until the person is out of sight. You can point to the ceiling fan at Grandma and Grandpa’s house on command. You clap when we say “Yay!” even if you’re in the middle of doing other things. And your ma-ma’s and da-da’s often seem to be directed right at the appropriate party—especially when you’re upset and you want no one else but Mama to hold you.
You are still a sunny, smiley, good-natured baby, but we’ve had a few difficult days this month thanks to your three new teeth. Tooth #1 came through with barely a fuss. Tooth #2 was the worst, and it almost did both of us in; I’ve never seen you so distressed, for so long. Tooth #3, which followed close on the heels of tooth #2, made you fussy for a few hours, but then you were fine. I can’t imagine how much it must hurt for these bony protrusions to break through your tender gums. And I can’t imagine going through this over and over again for the next year or so. Funny how no one told me while I was pregnant with you how much of a struggle teething would be—it’s just one of those things that came out of nowhere. BAM! another parenting stage.
You are a baby who loves her toys and books, and, when you’re not teething, you’ll often just sit on the floor playing happily, completely self-sufficient. Your favorite toys are your Plan Toys blocks (some rattle or jingle, which you love—you hold one in each hand and bang them together), your stacking plastic rings, your stacking cups (you got a set from Grandma Marge and from Aunt Moils), a small counting book published by DK, Pat the Bunny, and Moo Baa La La La by Sandra Boynton.
You are eating lots of new things; yesterday you ate an entire (small) bowl of Grandma’s escarole soup, with greens, carrots, and pasta—little spoonfuls of it, along with some bread. So cute. Your favorite finger food is bananas. You continue to detest peaches.
You’re a Brooklyn baby now, seemingly at home among all the many, many other Brooklyn babies, and you and I have set out to make some friends. You are fascinated by other children, if a bit shy; you’re content to sit by Mama and just watch everything, only venturing into the mix after a long period of observation. You are much smaller than other babies, which may play a role in your hesitation, or you may be, as I’ve said before, more like me than your daddy. But I think you’ll have fun doing music or swimming or whatever we decide to participate in this fall.
We’re in Connellsville for your ten-month birthday, ready to go to the Orlando family reunion. You have a bit of stranger anxiety these days, not readily going to other people like you used to—but you took to Aunt Moils immediately, even though you hadn’t seen her since you were ten weeks old. With others, though, an attempt at holding often results in a crumpled face, fat tears, and prolonged, shuddering crying. But it’s quite cute when you bury your head in my neck and hold onto me with your little koala arms.
Every day is an adventure, little one, from 6:30am (if we’re lucky) until you close your eyes at night. Happy ten-month birthday, my sweetie!
You’re ten months old today—and you’re on the move. Though you haven’t (yet) transitioned from your inchworm-style crawl into a more traditional hands-and-knees crawl, this doesn’t slow you down, and you have explored every corner of your new Brooklyn home. You are an expert now at going from a crawl to sitting and back again, and you have such an ingenious, and amazing, way of doing it: you stretch your legs out on either side of your body, forming a straight line of leg from toe to toe, and simply work your way upward or downward, depending on how you want to move. When your legs are stretched out that way, you look like one of those gift-store sandbaggy items meant to stop drafts from coming from the bottoms of doors. If we sat you there, you’d be quite effective at it. I’m still amazed that you taught yourself how to go from lying down to sitting—you just did it one day, with no prompting or coaching or practicing. You wanted to do it, and you did.
You are now waving hello and bye-bye on command—but sometimes you wait to wave bye-bye until the person is out of sight. You can point to the ceiling fan at Grandma and Grandpa’s house on command. You clap when we say “Yay!” even if you’re in the middle of doing other things. And your ma-ma’s and da-da’s often seem to be directed right at the appropriate party—especially when you’re upset and you want no one else but Mama to hold you.
You are still a sunny, smiley, good-natured baby, but we’ve had a few difficult days this month thanks to your three new teeth. Tooth #1 came through with barely a fuss. Tooth #2 was the worst, and it almost did both of us in; I’ve never seen you so distressed, for so long. Tooth #3, which followed close on the heels of tooth #2, made you fussy for a few hours, but then you were fine. I can’t imagine how much it must hurt for these bony protrusions to break through your tender gums. And I can’t imagine going through this over and over again for the next year or so. Funny how no one told me while I was pregnant with you how much of a struggle teething would be—it’s just one of those things that came out of nowhere. BAM! another parenting stage.
You are a baby who loves her toys and books, and, when you’re not teething, you’ll often just sit on the floor playing happily, completely self-sufficient. Your favorite toys are your Plan Toys blocks (some rattle or jingle, which you love—you hold one in each hand and bang them together), your stacking plastic rings, your stacking cups (you got a set from Grandma Marge and from Aunt Moils), a small counting book published by DK, Pat the Bunny, and Moo Baa La La La by Sandra Boynton.
You are eating lots of new things; yesterday you ate an entire (small) bowl of Grandma’s escarole soup, with greens, carrots, and pasta—little spoonfuls of it, along with some bread. So cute. Your favorite finger food is bananas. You continue to detest peaches.
You’re a Brooklyn baby now, seemingly at home among all the many, many other Brooklyn babies, and you and I have set out to make some friends. You are fascinated by other children, if a bit shy; you’re content to sit by Mama and just watch everything, only venturing into the mix after a long period of observation. You are much smaller than other babies, which may play a role in your hesitation, or you may be, as I’ve said before, more like me than your daddy. But I think you’ll have fun doing music or swimming or whatever we decide to participate in this fall.
We’re in Connellsville for your ten-month birthday, ready to go to the Orlando family reunion. You have a bit of stranger anxiety these days, not readily going to other people like you used to—but you took to Aunt Moils immediately, even though you hadn’t seen her since you were ten weeks old. With others, though, an attempt at holding often results in a crumpled face, fat tears, and prolonged, shuddering crying. But it’s quite cute when you bury your head in my neck and hold onto me with your little koala arms.
Every day is an adventure, little one, from 6:30am (if we’re lucky) until you close your eyes at night. Happy ten-month birthday, my sweetie!
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