Florida and Nine Months

You've now officially been out as long as you were in. Happy 9 month birthday, Ben! I started writing you a letter offline which I may post later.  But, for now, let me just tell you a few wonderful things that you're up to:

~Huge smiles and belly laughs. Yesterday, I got home from work relatively early and got down on my hands and knees and asked you to follow me into the kitchen. You thought it was HILarious to crawl after your mama. You even crawled right under me, through my legs at the end. You couldn't stop cracking up.  You later made a huge mess of dinner, and then pretended to feed me broccoli -- which you seem to think is the funniest thing to do yet.  (And, here, I feel like I am really seeing you assert your own little strange personality, your own idea of what would be fun to do -- let me feed my mama.  You're imitating me, sure, since I'm always trying to feed you.  But, this is certainly your own spin on the matter.  And, a sweetly generous and playful spin, at that.)

~Broccoli. You love to hold a chunk and suck on the stem, then the florets, then the stem. You manage to suck the florets right off and often swallow them nearly whole (I know because I see them come out the other end). So much for absorbing nutrients. You love broccoli second only to cheerios. (You also dig on asparagus and green beans.)

~Crawling, acrobatics on the bar that holds the kitchen table base together (I've found you hanging across it, folded in half on your tummy; yesterday, I saw your little legs fly forth as you slipped from standing to sitting -- all while keeping a firm grip on the bar; it looked like one of those moves where an ice skater threads his partner through his legs), pulling yourself to standing.

~You repeatedly turn on the CD player in the kitchen so that it plays your favorite CD (classic children's songs compiled by Mr. Hass). You are always trying to touch the stereo, but you've never managed to accidentally turn on the radio. You never accidentally eject the CDs. Somehow, you only and always manage to turn on your CD. And then you giggle and bounce when you hear the first line of "Teddy Bears' Picnic." (I am now going around with an endless chorus of "Here we go loop-de-loop" and other kids' songs in my mind.

~And today your dad noted that the sounds you make (you've been babbling incessantly) have changed in their tenor.  It sounds almost like you're saying words now.  We've heard "yum," "hi," and lots of "buh" and "vuh" sounds lately.  We can hardly wait to hear what's coming next.  And, it is thrilling to see how much you delight in the feel of sounds on your lips, tongue, mouth.  Particularly those fricative sounds like "puh," "fuh" and the others above.  We find ourselves immitating you just to re-discover how amazing it feels to make these sounds.

~Also, we think you are just absolutely beautiful, hilarious and brilliant.  We are devastatingly and totally in love with you.  Even when you continue to wake us up in the middle of the night.  Every night.  (You are doing us a wonderful favor by going to bed so nicely every night around 8:30 after a brief ritual... so thanks for that.)

These are photos of your first trip to Florida and the ocean.  I think you saw the ocean for only about five minutes total, as you slept in the Ergo during almost the entirety of our two walks on the beach.  You did enjoy when I dipped your toesies in the swimming pool at Great Grandpa's condo.  You squealed and laughed and flapped your arms.  (Shhh, don't tell, you're not officially allowed in the pool until you're three.)

You were so incredibly good on this trip.  I am knocking on wood as I note that over the course of four or five meals out, we never once had to get up and walk you around the restaurant.  The only time I did that was to introduce you to a few older ladies at Great Grandpa Brown's country club who had been making eyes at you during dinner.