I love you. I love you so much I can’t handle it.
(Imagine I am reading this to you in that exaggerated voice that you think is so funny.)
I love the way you giggle when the dogs walk into the room. I love the way you start flailing when you see daddy walk in the door. I love the special smile you reserve just for your inner circle. You make people feel special when you smile at them. I love you so much it aches almost much as it feels lovely to know that loving somebody can make you feel so lovey.
And it’s because I love you so much that I’m writing this letter. Also because you wouldn’t understand any of this no matter how I communicated it to you so there’s also that. You are only eight months old.
In eight months’ time, you’ve gone from scrunched-faced cone head to chubby, big bootied baby. Every major development you’ve made has been on your own time. It’s been the most thrilling experience of our lives to watch you grow and learn and become more and more of a person every day.
These words are hard to say out loud. I need to tell you this:
You’re being kind of an a-hole lately.
You are. And it’s cool: you’re a baby. It happens. You will be able to use the “I’m a kid” excuse many, many times over the next several years.
Enjoy it. There is so, so much I am willing to let slide because you’re a kid.
Like, I still expect you to be polite and kind and compassionate. But “He’s a kid, kids are messy” is pretty reasonable to me and I don’t really care how sloppy you get when you’re playing outside as long as you clean up when you get inside.
You know what I do care about though?
The blood-drawing on my boobs thing you’ve got going on lately. I know teeth are exciting. I KNOW. They are very cool and can do so many things. Steamed carrots! Sweet potatoes fries! But biting boobs is not good manners. Please never bite another person unless you are afraid for your personal safety or they have asked you to bite them.
And hey, about the fake out scream at bedtime — what’s the deal with that? You fall asleep within 60 seconds of being kissed goodnight. I know you would rather be held while you sleep. I get it. I would also like somebody to hold me while I sleep, existing solely for my own personal comfort, ignoring their own bodily needs. But (most) grownups don’t wear diapers and don’t have that luxury.
Also, you’re crawling now! That is so exciting for us to watch. Could you please stop only crawling when there are electrical cords in sight, though? That is a kind of anxiety I never knew I was capable of feeling. I now live in constant fear of a television falling on your head. I thought about asking your dad how he felt about just getting rid of the TVs, but then I remembered Twin Peaks just started.
Please take this criticism as constructive, Bubbers. I just want you to be the best, happiest, most well-adjusted baby ever.
I’m going to go call Grandma and apologize for all the times I was probably a jerk as a baby now.
Love you, baby.