My Little Love.

Dear Tadpole,

Shhhhh, let me tell you a secret.

On Sunday, you turned 8 months old. But I didn't say anything.

I guess I thought that if I didn't tell you, we could just pretend it didn't happen. And you could stay my little 7 month old.
But of course, it doesn't work like that.

You're crawling now. Well, you do the butt-scootch. It gets you around.

You're eating solids, and lots of them. More than both your sisters were at 8 months. But you still love to nurse, love that down time when we sit down together and touch base again after all that crawling around.

You have just a small bit of separation anxiety. Or maybe it's just that you love being held so much. You crawl over and wrap your arms around my legs, looking up at me with that look. How could I not pick you up? I swing you up into my arms, and your literally wrap your arms around my neck and hug me. You give kisses, too.

You are by far my snuggly baby.

You have so much joy within you. You're so mellow and calm and happy. I take you everywhere I can, and you sit in my lap and go along with whatever.

And you are such. a. flirt. Tilting your head to the side, you give a confident grin that melts any one's heart.

Eight months old, my little one. And you are not so little anymore. Something I am not ready for.

I adore you, my little love. Happy eight months.

My Little Love.