asphodellium

dear ashelyn (9 months)

Posted on: 8 January 2013

You’re a charmer, supremely happy all the time. Always a smile for everybody. They call you 开心果 (pistachio, literally “happy fruit”) and 喜乐天使 (literally “angel of joy”). Both sound cuter and less lame in Chinese, I promise.

You are a tease. You’ll reach for someone … then, when they come to hold you, all flattered and pleased that you’ve singled them out for attention … you’ll quickly withdraw your arms and turn away, like, JUST KIDDING! Smirk smirk.

Look what I can do.

Look what I can do.

You tilt your head to the side, all cute and coy. Where did you learn how to do this? I did not teach it to you.

You know how to give a high-five.

This is new: at times you protest vehemently when we take something away from you, or deny you something that you want. You’ll tense up, wave your fists, and yell at us. Uh oh. You have a WILL! Is this the end of the easy parenting days?

Your feet have outgrown your adorable puppy shoes. Nooo.

We’re getting the best fit from 12-18 month sized clothing.

Come to mama!

What’s with you and sneaking bites of paper? How many times this month have I had to fish pulpy wads out of your mouth?

For some reason you’re wild about drinking from a cup, and will demand that we share our water with you.

A few days before Christmas, daddy noticed that something in your mouth was clinking against the cup from which you were drinking. Teeth, at last! Yet I mourn the loss of your gummy smile. At present you have two nubbins on the bottom; the second broke through sometime around New Year’s. How lucky are we that teething bothered you not at all?

image_1355675184987915

Very, very lucky.

New foods this month include chicken, peas, hummus, lamb, cheese, cauliflower, cabbage, eggplant, turkey. Grandma keeps trying to feed you junk. But you really wanted the cookie! she says. Duh. You want to eat everything. See above re: paper. Now can we stick to things with nutritional value?

You think it’s hilarious to snatch the nursing pads out of my bra.

On New Year’s Eve, you levelled up into a bigger carseat. You were hating the infant one, with its too-tight straps and your feet protruding past the edge. Now you can see the road, and you couldn’t be happier!

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