I have a journal that I’m keeping for Sadie, in which I try (TRY!) to regularly write about all the things I want to say to her that she can’t understand right now. It sounds touching, yes, but understand that my main motivation for keeping this journal is that I am morbidly terrified that I will get flattened by a city bus or contract a deadly flesh-eating virus before I have the chance to explain to her that OH MY GOD, when you were nine months old I wanted to dip you in buttercream and devour you whole.
Fortunately, I am never at a loss for things I want to say to her. I want her to know that I kissed the back of her fuzzy head so much throughout her infanthood that I genuinely worried I’d create a bald spot. I want her to know that her sheer excitement and joy over seeing her Daddy walk into a room nearly caused her to fish-flop out of my arms on numerous occasions. I want her to know that I never intentionally dressed her up to look like a total douche, but sometimes people send you gifts and…
UNfortunately, however, I never seem to have the time or the energy to write in her journal as much as I’d like to. And this is when I have to turn to the blog. Because my formerly be-bonnet-ed baby is NINE MONTHS OLD today, Internet, and there are some things I really need her to know.
First things first: You flip your shit whenever I leave the room, and I won’t even front: I LOVE THIS.
Your Daddy can make you laugh just by looking at you. He never passes up an opportunity to get a smile out of you. You never pass up an opportunity to give him one.
You have two bottom teeth, and a nub of a top front tooth poking through, with its mate not far behind. We may have taken to calling you Bucky Beaver. This is done out of love. We’ll stop before you’re old enough to be scarred, I promise.
You can clap, wave, point, imitate sounds, and HOLY SHIT, you can pretty much stand unassisted now, and I AM NOT READY FOR THAT CAN OF WORMS, NO SIR.
You are growing up way too fast, but I forgive you. I have absolutely lost my mind with crazy love for you, but I hope you’ll forgive me back.
Happy Nine Months, Pigeon. You’re super, super swell.
Entry filed under: Thanksgiving.