My little one is six months old today. I’m not sad that her first half-year is over. Instead, I’m actually very pleased with how the time went. Fae spent most of each day in her parents’ arms, and snuggled in mine every night. She’s been a part of everything that I’ve done since the moment she was born, attached and content. She’s everything we hoped for: determined, strong, a little wild. She’s got quite the little personality.
Fae’s favorites, at six months: nursing; Daddy playing guitar; the kitty; smacking wooden toys on our wooden table; her parents acting silly; walking (we hold her hands) around the house, especially when she finds Mummy–then she runs; outdoor walks in her pouch sling; stomping her feet on paper, or on BumbleCorn (a toy–half bumble bee, half candy-corn, as we suppose); blowing raspberries when we change her diaper (she’s been doing this since eight weeks, and she still thinks its funny); being tickled.
This past year has been truly amazing. Life does completely change when you have a baby–mine has become one that rarely pauses, but is completely rewarding. The three of us are a tight little circle of overwhelming love.
Fae is getting tickled by Daddy on the couch, as we listen to Paul Simon. She’s whining, giggling, and blowing raspberries.