newsletter: month six

Dear Nico,

Now you are six. Months old.

Yeah, I don’t know either.

A month ago I was in a pretty bleary state when I wrote in my notes for this post: “4am, tiny mammal nestled against my elbow.” Since then, you’ve become about a million times cuddlier. I often sleep with my arm around you now. This is new—until recently I was somehow unsure of how comfortable you were with the weight of my arm on your torso. As of this writing, you weigh a hair over 19.5lbs, so it’s not like my relaxed arm is going to hold you hostage. Ohhh no, you’re scooting all over the place with your butt high in the air and a gleeful expression on your face. Doomy doomy doom.

The sunny disposition that goes along with your cuddliness served you in good stead when we went to Germany last week. That’s right: Baby NAZ, international baby of mystery. You charmed at least half of Hamburg, and a great most of DH 2012. You didn’t even seem to notice the time change—that is, until we came back to the States. Then you crashed hard. But that’s way easier to deal with.

Your first baby-food-in-a-jar experience was in Germany. Aunt Jo bought you some at the fancy little supermarket around the corner from our hotel. When I came back from that day’s conferencing, she showed me the two jars and said: “So… this jar is definitely carrots. And this other one… I think it’s chestnuts?” I took a look; seemed plausible. Just in case, though, we looked it up online. Nope. Beef. Poof! You are omnivorous.

And you like it, too. But mostly you’ll need teeth for that, and this month you’ve been teething like crazy. But no teeth yet. Here’s a pro tip: fast teething is probably better teething. I don’t think your baby teeth got that memo. I’ve now drugged you several times with homeopathic remedies (which did bupkis, as mostly expected, but I wanted to try) and baby Tylenol (which mostly works).

But never mind that you don’t have actual teeth yet. Solid foods are fun for both of us. Not that you’re losing interest in mama milk. Any day now, you’ll be feeding that to yourself from the bottle.

It’s been the month of limbs and lips. You can operate all four of your limbs with purpose and relative grace. Grabby-motor control is developing fast: you’re probably a week or two away from the pincer grip. We’ll see about speeding up that bit of training by getting you Os cereal. For now, you continue to examine your hands, and now also your feet, from every angle daily.

Consonants are the source of this month’s greatest entertainment for you and me both. Maybe next month I’ll sign you up for the Thpfft Championship. That is, if I can distract you from communing with the cats with the newly unabashed glee of conscious recognition.

Oh, what am I saying. You’re still as distractable as ever.

Love,
-Mama

P.S. moar pix!

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