Baby girl, you are half a year old today. It’s the winter solstice tonight. You’ve made it to the dark side of your first year.

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You’ve taken up a new pastime: toe chewing. Only when you’re having your diaper changed, though – otherwise, toe pulling will suffice. You also like to pull on other people’s lips, beards, and noses, and you squeal like a banshee when we kiss your armpits. The belly to back roll is old news by now, and you’ve even managed one back to belly roll. I think your hair is finally growing, too – not that you have any more hairs as far as numbers go, but the ones you started out with are definitely longer than they used to be.

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Your daddy is still your favorite person in the WHOLE WORLD. Like, by a lot. Despite the fact that I get up on average five times a night to feed you, change you, sing to you… in general, to swaddle you with my love until you fall gently back to sleep, despite dizzying, toe-stubbing, door-frame-bumping sleep deprivation. I thought at least the breastfeeding would give me a leg up. But, you know, I’m not jealous or anything. I’m not, actually. I love watching you and your daddy play. He can coax this hilarious, gasping, honking laugh from you. Punctuated with squeals. So great.

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In short, I love the crap out of you. You are just the most perfect thing. Like, my heart explodes and I get a lump in my throat and I JUST CAN’T BELIEVE how lucky I am when I look at you. Thanks for an amazing half year, solstice baby. Junebug. Nipper. Junip.

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