Sweet-heart, you're three months old today and we spend our days in awe and delight with you. *
You are giggly, smiley, cuddly and very strong. (Who's mama's gorgeous, giggly, gurgly, gummy girl? Littlest is!)
All day your big eyes follow me as we go about our day and we chat and laugh with each other. You catch my eye and your face dissolves into big and joyous grins.
You hate tummy time, but you love to be stood up. Or sat up. Or basically just be UP. I fear you will be away and walking before I have time to catch my breath.
All this week you have had your little fist desperately in your mouth and been gnawing away as your first teeth come through. I have tried to tell you that you are too young for teething, but you haven't listened.
You've already rolled over - flipping from your tummy when I've tried to give you tummy time. I would swear you've said 'mama' and 'hello' although your daddy laughs at me.
Do slow down little one, I want to savour this time and it's disappearing O so fast.
It's almost impossible to believe that this time last year you were only just coming into being. Hardly visible as you began your miraculous journey into the world. You are now so very much here and so very much yourself. You are placidly accepting as your brother and sister pick you up, cuddle you, sing to you, drop kisses on you, decide you want help rolling after they have been rolling in the grass - and obviously you want to as well.
You are already showing an interest in food, studying people intently as they eat, and reaching for a sausage with great determination and even greater lack of co-ordination. I suspect keeping you off solids until you are six months will be hard. With Sprocket and Poppet we managed five and a half months - with you I think five months might be a stretch. Just think, Little one, only a couple of months before you too will know the delights of steamed veggies!
You are the first of our little ones to show any interest in television before eighteen months. If you are in a room and the television, or a computer, is on, you crane your head around, trying to catch a glimpse. I suspect (guiltily) that you became used to seeing the glow of the laptop through my tummy when you were in utero. Your daddy choses to think this means you will be technologically driven and maybe you will be the one he can teach computer languages too...
We are still playing 'guess what Littlest will look like.' It has been decided that while your brother is a mini-daddy, your sister a ringer for your aunty bec (and nana budgie) you are my little mini-me. We think your hair is coming in dark (we still hope for at least traces of red and you do have ginger eyebrows) and we suspect your eyes will be blue.
Your daddy is finally getting to know you. He has changed rotations - is in the hospital on the opposite side of us to the last, busily practicing his catheters, cannulas and bowel dis-impactions for next year when he's actually officially working (I'm not entirely sure what you call this year of 8-14 hour days, doing cannulas, catheters and bowel dis-impactions... play?) He is loving getting time to spend with you (unable to leave his student self behind he tried to place you in developmental guidelines but you are leaving them all behind.)
You are a solid little feeder, and your happy grunts and lunges for the milk make me laugh. Your little sigh/grunt as you latch on is hilarious.
When you wake in the morning you gurgle and chat with increasing urgency until your daddy and I come over to pick you up - playing with your hands or desperately sucking on them. When we come over you give us the biggest smile and reach up your arms.
You love being outside - sitting in your bouncr, watching the washing on the line and the changing shadows of the trees. You watch wistfully as the kids go on the trampoline and love when your daddy takes you up. Walks in your pusher are a hit, and you try out your winning smiles and grins on all passers by.
Traffic lights are a curse - you still fall asleep in the car almost the instant the engine starts, but should we happen to stop you wake and start howling. Luckily, there aren't many traffic lights around here!
Little darling one - our sweet little Lilli-Pilli you are our constant delight…and I'm going to use the excuse of your month-a-versary for an excess of photos…
*This is now a couple of weeks late… next month I'll be on time. Maybe.