I missed Jameson’s 7-month “birthday”.
Well, I didn’t miss it; I just didn’t make note of it here on my weblog (which will probably just get printed and stuck in his baby book, since I’m so lousy at keeping it updated!)
I was busy on the 15th, what with two church services, two guests, dinner to serve, a husband with jetlag, and a baby with… well, with baby needs. But I also sort of glossed over the 7-month mark because I knew that if I thought about it too long, I would just cry.
But, it’s over now. (And I didn’t cry. I just kissed his sweet cheek as I put him in his basket. My little cherub.) And so, for posterity’s sake, I’ll record some fun details of Jameson’s sixth month:
He’s gotten SO OLD!
He was so happy on his tummy, and with is rolling skills — and then suddenly, he discovered how to push backwards, how to move around in circles with the help of his [extremely strong] arms, he does push ups that would put me to shame (girl push ups, that is), and he got stuck under a chair for the very first time. (You know — when they back up under a low chair, and then push up and whack their heads, get totally confused, and then just cry?) So now, after spreading a few toys around him, I give the room a quick glance before I leave, checking for papers or cords or dishes or whatever, because I never know where he’ll end up before I return.
When Ryan was gone, he perfected the art of getting himself into a tizzy in no time flat. First a little whimper, then he screws up his face and gives this phony, “A-ha, a-ha” (think lousy school-play acting in Anne of Green Gables the Sequel), and then before I even have a chance to laugh at how fake he is, he’s in full-hysterics, tears and all. It’s very, very funny — especially when these full-blown hysterics disappear immediately the minute I pick him up. Ahh, yes, he loves me.
But the best part of his theatrics is that last week, he learned how to fake smile. What?! I smiled at him from the other room one morning, enjoying the sight of him happily playing on the floor (read: chewing on the cold-air return); he looked up, squinted his eyes, and gave me the cheesiest, fakest* grin you’ve ever seen. I couldn’t believe it. Wasn’t it just a few weeks ago that he learned how to smile for real? How can he already have figured out that if he just fakes a grin at me, I’ll leave him alone, and he can get back to gnawing on the grate?
Well, fake or not, we all certainly enjoy it. Too cute.
He has a favorite book. I knew he enjoyed it (we read it through at least 5 or 6 times before he even squirms once), but I didn’t realize how much he preferred it until the other night, when I tried introducing another bedtime story. Thinking of all the fond memories I have of reading this to my younger siblings, I set it by my bed to remember to read to Jameson. That night, we did the usual read through of moo said the cow, yada yada, I set that one aside, and with the expectation that this would be a truly bonding experience, I began, “In the great green room…”
I got about three pages into it, when Jameson suddenly lunged toward the nightstand and began wailing — for the same old book.
I sighed and went back to the moos and baas that apparently my son is so very fond of.
We’ll learn about old ladies whispering hush some other day, I guess.
He’s got two teeth now, although one is still hardly there. A couple weeks of teething meant several days of tears and fevers and lots of cuddling. Somewhere in there, he got the notion into his head that napping without me just isn’t fun, and that when he is awake, I should be holding him — or at least sitting nearby, on the floor, while he plays. This simply means I get to be creative with my chores, and mostly, just get a lot stronger. I’ve got huge arms. (Okay, not really, but they’re definitely stronger than they were!)
He’s happy. He’s talkative at times, and it’s adorable. He likes to have a handful of my hair the whole I time I hold him. He’s the best little buddy I’ve ever had. If I had to be attached at the hip to anyone in the world, I’d pick him.
I love him lots.
*fakest is, I don’t think, a word.