Damen, how are you half a year old already? The doctor today said you were a healthy, perfect little boy. Well, she didn’t say “perfect.” That was my interpretation. But you are. You are also enormous—in the ninety-fifth percentile of both height and weight. (As much as I hate those dumb percentile charts, I have become that mom who regularly recites her child’s scores.)
You are so sweet. We love to get you in the morning and after naps, because no matter how long you’ve been waiting for a face to appear above your crib, you always reward it with the BIGGEST smile. This huge, open-mouth, silly grin. In fact, you do this whenever anyone looks in your direction all day long. So I am constantly smiling back and launching into gushy baby talk. How can I help it?
You belly laugh, you’ve started to eat baby food (which you merely tolerate), you try to sit up, and you are very close to cutting your first tooth. You love your brother and could bounce all day in your jumper. You will go to anyone and are always the best kid in church nursery (if I say so myself).
I have only one request. Stop growing up!
We love you, sweet Damen.
