You are starting to say a few words. Your pronunciation is pretty crude, but your points of reference are undeniable: Bird. Ball. That’s pretty cool.
Yesterday we were running so late in the morning that I rode my bike to daycare with you strapped to my chest (instead of dropping you off and doubling back for my bike per my usual routine). It seemed pretty safe for a one-time thing, and I think you enjoyed it, but I wouldn’t want to make it a habit.
You’re almost through teething with both your upper and lower canines. Not quite, but almost. Soon you should catch a break until your hind molars come in.
I suspect your allergies have been bothering you lately — I know mine have been bothering me — but fortunately you have not gotten sick for a while, though you still have that persistent cough that worries me.
I’ve noticed I tend to focus on the positives in these letters. I wouldn’t want to give the impression that it’s all sunshine and roses. I recall some people telling me the first three months were the hardest, or the first six months, or the first year. Either I misunderstood people, or they were lying to save my sanity. The truth is those first three months were the easiest. In fact, you’ve been steadily more and more difficult — a real handful, in fact. You require constant supervision, and you’re starting to develop a will of your own, and you cry when you don’t get your way, and you sometimes cry for no reason whatsoever, and when you do that in the middle of the night, man! It really sucks.
But you’re so damn cute it’s hard to feel any resentment.
Oh, one last thing: You love books. You will often take a book out and demand to have it read to you. Again, and again, and again. I have started to let you read them to me occasionally. You can’t actually read, but you can turn the pages and lift the flaps. When you see what’s behind the flap you laugh out loud, like someone just told a really funny joke.