Thursday, September 13, 2012

Dear Owie Bowie...

You are almost eight months old -- not quite, but almost, and I'd better write now, while you are so heavy on my mind and before time slips away from me as it always does.

You are so amazing, my little love.  A letter to you is long overdue, because from the moment I finished my last correspondence you grew and changed so much and so quickly, and all of our love for you has done the same.

Yesterday was a big day: you pulled yourself up to standing for the first time.  (I was talking on the phone, looked down and suddenly you were standing beside me with a couple of choking hazards in your hands and smiling up at me.)  That makes me the winner of a friendly bet I had going with dad.  (Truth be told: you have been leading slowly up to this point -- pulling up onto steps or bob's ladder or the couch cushions -- so maybe your "first stand" date is a little bit debatable, but I'm claiming 9/11 as the day.)

Also yesterday, Dad and I are pretty convinced you said "mom" for real.  I put you down and turned to the kitchen and you yelled an angry "mam!" at me.  Came back for you; all smiles.  I guess I'm not all that surprised to hear the mom calling start, since you hear it from Bobby three hundred times a day.

Other stuff you do... Long ago you started sitting up.  Probably the day after I last wrote.  You're able to sit yourself up now, too.  You do the sign for "nurse;" and you can clap and wave, although you haven't caught on to how fun those things are.

You love to chase Bobby around the house trying to play with him.  All you want to do is whatever he's doing.  You want to climb on him and grab his face and hair and lick him.  If you're awake during Bob's nap you get restless and cranky missing him.

Bobby loves you like crazy, too, even if he doesn't always like it when you take his toys.  Sometimes he'll say, "I need my Owie," or "I need some Owie huggins!"  He especially loves to take a bath with you.

You're a crazy little daredevil -- swimming with big bro in the bath, climbing down from our bed, digging your way through an obstacle course of toys to get the one you want.

You are starting to get the hang of eating food.  You are doing a little better with your baby oatmeal and pureed vegetables, but I get the feeling you're already jealous of all types of real people food.  Tonight you did pretty well on some macaroni and cheese.  Cold water in a cup is another joy.

You're a big snuggly lovebug and every inch of you is the yummiest thing I've ever tasted.  I am in love with your sweet milky breath; I breathe it in deeply while you sleep.

Owen, I would not trade you for anything in the world.  I love you so much.  If you ever heard a rumor on this blog that I love Bobby more than I love you, I just want you to know, on the record: not so anymore.  It's crazy how fast your sweet little life became irreplaceable in ours.

You've got four teeth now; have I mentioned that?

And now I must go snuggle up between you and dad to get my lovecuddle fix.

I am SO happy God gave us YOU for our family, Oboe.


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