Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Five Months: My Letter to Tiny Man

I've been putting off this letter. This is the latest I've ever been for one of these letters and if you're thinking that it has to do with you being my second child, you're totally right. This has everything to do with the fact you're not my first. But it's probably not for the reasons you think. I haven't made this letter a priority, for the same reason that I keep slipping up and telling people that you're four-months old, when that hasn't been accurate for a few days now. The truth is that five-months old can't be right. You're my baby. And my baby can't already be four weeks away from being halfway to his first birthday. Because this would then mean that the time is getting away from me. That I'm about 29 weeks away from no longer having a baby.

And that truth? Is one I'm not quite ready to accept. Already, you're too big to fit on one of my arms when I'm rocking you. Your legs stick out past my torso, proof that all that eating you've been doing is totally starting to seriously affect your weight. I mean, I'm not going to call you fat, or anything, but seriously? Three rolls per thigh? Isn't that a little excessive?



I'm just saying, maybe if you stopped drinking milk like every bottle could be your last, maybe, just maybe you could remain a baby longer. You'd get to wear onesies longer, and I'd get to keep my baby longer. And everyone wins, right?

You now speak dolphin fluently, which should come in handy, should we ever be stranded at sea. Your high-pitch squeals have you clearly convinced that you are actually communicating with us. And you are. Because anyone with your enthusiasm and zest for life can always get his point across even if it's with sentences that sound like "baawaagaaawaa, EEEEE!"



We started you on solids this past month, and you've yet to meet a food you don't like. OK, that's a lie. It's something every mom says, but in your case it's not true. You've met the enemy and her name is oatmeal. I don't know what it is about oatmeal, but every time I try to feed it to you on its own, your entire face contorts itself while your entire body shudders.



I guess this is where your ressemblance to me shows itself, like me, your reactions border on over the top for everything. Which I guess I'll have to take because, really child? Could you look any more like your dad?

I'm serious, more and more, you look like this shrunk down version of him. Literally, when you're sitting on his lap, I think that if I suddenly developed depth perception issues, I totally wouldn't be able to tell the two of you apart.



You just figured out how to roll over from your back to your tummy. I'd left you on the floor the other day with your brother, and I walked back in and you were on your tummy making those pissed off grunts of yours that mean "shit, I'm stuck here, a little help please?" I asked your brother why he'd put you on your stomach, while trying to figure out how he was able to accomplish such a feat when you're more than half his body weight, but Little Man stated that you'd done it all by yourself. And when he said that, you lifted your head up, looked at me and beamed, while you were clearly telling me telepathically 'hell yeah I rolled over to my tummy, and as soon as I remember how to roll from front to back again, I'll totally put them together and roll over to places I shouldn't and your life will never be the same again.'

At this rate, I expect that you'll be swinging from the fan to see if it can propel you all the way to the refrigerator by next month.



You've also begun scooting around your crib, which means that on the video monitor, I rarely get to see your sleeping face. Now, I usually get to watch a sleeping arm, or foot, or a diaper. Which for the record, it's really hard to tell if a diaper is actually sleeping, so cut it out, will ya?

We also need to talk about your TV obsession. If there is a television set within two miles of where you are, you will not only notice it, but you will stare at it with this look of awe on your face.

Another thing you stare at in awe? Me. Which I have to admit, you're awful good for my ego, kid. I love working from home and having you watch me while I'm on conference calls, because I feel like the smartest person in the world with you staring at me, your eyes wide as saucers, as you drink in every word I say, every single one of my movements. And when our eyes lock, your face breaks out in the biggest smiles, smiles that you still refuse to let me catch on camera.



That's ok, no worries. Those big goofy smiles of yours can just be our little secret.

I love you, my Tiny Man,

Maman.

5 comments:

the planet of janet said...

it should be illegal to be that cute.

Burgh Baby said...

I don't remember giving that kid permission to grow up, dammit. Why don't kids every listen to me?

Loukia said...

Sigh... he is sooo beautiful! I love the one of him with the remote on his lap. I can totally see that picture being used in the slide show on his wedding day... side by side with the one of him at 20 in a similar pose! Adorable pics, and once again, a beautiful post, well written! :) Why do they grow so fast!

Kristi said...

He is just precious. I agree, time just goes way too fast!

squishytushy said...

How did he get to be five months old???

No really. How?

Because he was, like, born last week.

(but hot damn, he's a cutie!!)