Seven months

We have been having so much fun with our little Evie these days. She is a delightful, happy, adorable, fascinating little girl. She turns 7 months old this week and I can’t believe how much she has changed in just the last month. She can sit up entirely by herself, and when she tips to the side, she can kind of catch herself or at least soften the fall so it isn’t a mighty crash. She can now roll off her stomach to the right, although she has forgotten that she already knows how to go to the left. She is sleeping better. She loves the dogs. She loves her parents. She loves the blinking light on Jon's laptop. She loves music. She loves her toys—especially the little aluminum water bottle that she can yell into, the giant stuffed dog she can wrestle with, and the wooden blocks she can throw around. There really isn’t anything she doesn’t love, except maybe being left alone to play by herself and green beans. The former is rare since she isn’t really old enough to be left alone (she just wants us in the room, fawning over her adorableness), and the latter is something we will continue to work on.

There are so many things I want to remember so I can tell her when she gets older. I can barely remember what I had for breakfast yesterday so I’m sure these little things will be lost to time. I want to tell her about the mysterious poo incidents of last week—one where there was poo on the back of her leg, but not in her diaper, or on the wipes, or on her clothes or anywhere else; and the other where the poo was everywhere. I want to tell her of the fantastic laugh she reserves for times when she is watching the dogs. I don’t know what is so riotous about watching Tucker lick his paws, but Evelyn sees the hilarity. I want to tell her about her fantastic smile, the one that starts and one side and creeps up the other until her whole face is beaming. My favorite Evelyn smile is the one I get when going to her crib in the morning or after a nap. She’ll be playing with the blanket or kicking around entertaining herself until she sees me, and then her whole face gets excited and her smile can not be beat. It is my favorite thing in the whole world.

When she is older, maybe even having children of her own, I want to tell her what a happy baby she was. How much fun she is to have in our lives, and how every week brought such newness that I can almost see her little brain growing. I would tell her how she loves to eat, and eat and eat and eat. How she likes the tofu out of her dad’s miso soup, or the black bean sauce off my lad na. How she sucked all the pulp off an orange slice and then proceeded to try to eat the rind. I would tell her how much her dad and I love every little bit of her, and everything she does, and everything she is, and everything she might someday become.

That last part…well, that isn’t something I’ll forget to tell her. I only hope she will hear me.