When he looks at me with those big beady brown eyes, I see so much of Jeff. Yet, when those eyes are closed when he’s asleep or if I turn my head just so, I can almost see myself in him. When he flashes that megawatt gummy grin, emphasized with closed eyes, I don’t see the painfully shy child that I once was: I know for sure my kid is his father’s son.

He may only babble mamamama and dadadadada right now, but I know in time, this cheesy smileskid will champion the same charm and quick wit that everyone loves about his father.

As we’re approaching 7 seven months, Jack’s very mobile, but not in the crawling kind of mobile. Like he’s been doing for a few months now, he rolls and rolls until he’s found the best corner of our tiny living room. With that same grace of a sumo wrestler, when he’s in between belly to back roll, he’ll sometimes plop his head and bump it ever so slightly, almost sounding like it might hurt a fragile child. Not this kid. Afterall, he is built like a tank, as his father often describes.

He is a bouncing baby boy personified.

Scratching and drooling while sitting on his “baby” blanket, it’s apparent that he loves textures. And then, when he hears music, he’ll whip his head so fast, he’ll forget he’s sitting and do a back plant onto the Boppy, cushioning the newness of it all. And when you combine the two– textures and music– life is good.

He loves to dance and stomp his feet. After watching those kids on Dancing of the Stars, my dance enrollment campaign is even stronger. But best of all, he must take after me–he loves reading. If we’re in mid-meltdown because I won’t allow nakedness for too long , (he hates clothes) all I have to do is break out his Boynton ABC book or his Stinkyface book and all is well in the world once again.
The minute I start to say, Aardvarks Admiring elevating with a high pitched sing-songy crescendo, by the time we’re at Cats Cleaning, we have belly laughs all around. It gets annoying for others in the room, I’m sure, but it’s the simple things that work for us.

Jeff and I have been noticing how tall he’s become–he certainly gets that from Jeff’s side of the family. But even moreso, it’s so hard to comprehend how fast this infancy phase has gone by; he’s not a baby anymore. He’s done with size 3 diapers and is just about ready for size 4. I recently had to stock up on 18m pjs just the other day. It caught me off guard when I realized that those baby sleepers tend to only go up to 12m. He’s in those shirt/pant pjs now.

It’s official: our baby is almost a toddler.

He’s a bouncing, giggling, chatterbox and constantly hungry almost-toddler, whom I’ve nicknamed Johnny Drama for his orchestrated cries if he can’t chug his water before eating all of his Yams or “let” him spoon feed himself. At 6 months old, he’s quite the accomplished baby “actor.”

When a friend told me that the 6m phase was her favorite, I had to agree, only knowing how fun our nieces and nephews were at this age. But thus far, it’s truly been a fun time– except for the refusal to sleep through the night part.

I love love love how he practically jumps in my arms the minute I get home from work. I love how he sings dadadada while dada is still snoring away at 6am on Saturday mornings. But best of all, I love the fluidity of it all–the little team we’ve become.

We still have no clue what we’re doing on most days, but when those chubby cheeks flap in unison with his belly laugh, it’s reassurance that somehow, we’re figuring it out.

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