Letters to, Zac

Six months of Zac

Dear bubba,

You just celebrated your first Christmas! Not that you know any better or care, really – life goes on for you as usual, with the exception that you had your papa, mama and big brother all to yourself for the past week.

Also, Mama is terribly late with this update but hey, it’s because we have been enjoying your company.

I have forgotten just how delightful this period of babyhood is. Six months is always such a fun time: you can sit upright, babble a lot, smile and laugh frequently and is oh-so-squishy! I love, LOVE squishing you in my arms and stealing a smell from your sweaty forehead. Seriously, someone should just bottle up baby scents and sell them. Suckers like mama would totally buy them up.

And the babbling…so adorable, especially when done in that breathy baby voice. Every morning, without fail, I will wake up to your chatter and early exercise routine of vigorous arms and legs kicking. I CANNOT ignore you, no matter how hard I try to sneak in more sleep. You won’t let me! But when I finally crack open my eyelids and take my first glimpse of you, your face will break out into the biggest, loveliest toothless smile. Tell me, how can I get angry at you?

You are a most physical child, my little bubba, and I fear that my old bones cannot keep up with you once you discover the magic of walking and running. You are constantly on the move and there is never a dull moment with you around. I’d put you on the mat while I have dinner after work and you’d be rolling around and off the mat. I guess that’s why I can’t justify purchasing an expensive (read: pretty) playmat when you don’t quite care for boundaries. You just cannot. Sit. Still. (Exactly like that ants-in-pants brother of yours. EXACTLY.)

But I must admit that you are an easy, happy baby nonetheless. I can put you in the cot or your bouncer for a short period of time and you will be contented with your toys or simply looking around. That frees me up to do things, like chores or handle your brother or work on the laptop. Maybe it’s a second-born trait? Whatever it is, thank you very much for your chill nature.

It’s pretty funny but the first thing that almost everyone says when they see you is that you have a lot of hair. And then they talk about your nom-worthy cheeks (VERY! NOM NOM NOM). And then they tell me that you look like me. And I think you do look like me too, but you have papa’s eyes (Most unfortunate, tsk, but we can’t have everything, I suppose). I also have strangers asking me if you are a girl simply because you have so much hair. What is this sexist nonsense?!

Sigh. Like I said, six months is such a loveable age. I love the coos, the gurgles, the sweet baby smells. I love how you reach out your hands to touch my face. I love how you laugh when I toss you into the air. I love the way you blow raspberries. I love the way you kick in your bouncer.

You have my heart, little garden gnome of mine, you and your brother both.

Love you to the moon and back,
Mama