growing up grayson: eight months…

dear grayson,

QUIT IT!!! stop growing up SO FAST! you’re killing me!

hehe… kidding, only kidding of course. starting off as a 35 weeker and not knowing as to what pace you were going to grow, you are a BEST CASE SCENARIO… in every way possible. you have lit up my life and made it better in every way. you are my sunshine! (yes, your mother is ALL kinds of nerd. might as well come to terms with it now…)

this month has been the funnest. you have grown a TON! you are a whopping 22 pounds now! (and that’s only estimating… since we went to the doc two weeks ago)… you’re chowing down on solid foods like a champ. you LOVE getting ice cubes in your little munchkin netty contraption (p.s. THANK you to the awesome person who invented that little piece of baby genius!)… you are a mamas boy, there’s no doubt about that… but you get so excited to see your daddy. in fact so excited… you’re first legit word was DADA this month… and now you say it nonstop… we’ve had to patch that little eye of yours two hours a day this month… which you’ve been gracious enough not to mind… thanks for that, btw… you are officially on the move. if you want something… you go and get it! I hope this is a tell of what you’re going to be like when you grow up… your daddy is something of a go-getter himself… I’m sure you’ll make him proud… in fact, I know you already are…

the three of us woke up slowly this morning… and I asked your daddy what he thought about this stage. I told him I missed the newborn snuggliness and he said he wouldn’t go back if you paid him… he’s enjoying the stage you’re in right now. laughing, giggling when you’re tickled (you are wildly tickelish… EVERYWHERE.), picking up toys, eating our food, driving the dogs batty with your newfound mobility… what can I say kid? you’re the bomb. the apple of our eye I suppose… and I would not trade a moment of being your mama for anything. you are a true gem. I love you with every ounce of my being… so keep growing, eating us out of house and home, waking me up at all hours of the night, pooping in public places (cloth diapers make this interesting…), and spitting up on every one of my outfits… because you’re worth it all… every single crazy minute…

you’re all the baby I could ask for… can’t wait to see what kind of kid you become. (it’s okay if you take your time though…)



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