Well, little booger. Here we are again. It’s been a busy month for you: sitting upright solo without me hovering or stacking pillows behind you, your first inklings of forward movement (not a crawl or even an army crawl – instead, you inchworm forward), and your first airplane ride. You are like an old pro with solids; you pound orange slices and baguette heels with the best of ’em. And without any teeth, even! You are loving tummy time on the grass. And when left to your own devices in the playroom, you like to open the refrigerator, pull out baskets of play food, and dump them all over the mat. I find this kind of impressive, given that you cannot crawl or pull yourself up into a sitting position. Juniper, strangely, does not approve.
When offered a toy or bit of food, you reach out like in slow motion, and wrap one finger around it at a time, closing your grip from your pinky up. It is so deliberate and careful – as much as a mannerism can, it sums you up. Quintessentially Quinn.
You are as sweet tempered as always. I feel like I can say pretty confidently now, that’s your personality, and not just your babyness. When you are upset, your comfort pose is to hold my head tightly against yours (gripping my hair or ears) and to suck on your lower lip while you press your mouth and nose against my upper lip. It’s like a kiss, but without kissing. Totally disarming. I think you just like to feel my breath.
I’m still waiting for myself to graduate from the infant worrying phase. And by that I mean, I’m still getting up several times a night to make sure you’re breathing. You did not help matters by sleeping on your face while we were in DC. Yeah, flat on your face. I kept flipping you over and you just flipped right back. I tried turning your head and you just readjusted, smooshing that little nose right back into the pack ‘n play mat. Somehow you survived the night, though.
Yeah, that little smile still reduces me to a puddle. You are just the sweetest peanut.