It's Gobbles Time!: 9 Months!

Dear Mr. Gobbles,

Here we are again young man. Celebrating another quarter year of life, time for more shots, and time for Mommy to get sappy. I am amazed that you have now been out and about just as long as you were in my belly - save for the extra two weeks you took to cook of course.

You have been the happiest little boy lately with Mommy and Daddy, playing and shrieking with delight at just about everything. You've also been the saddest little guy when we leave your side, especially at daycare. You crawl up to me so fast and grab on my leg, clinging to it almost comically as I try to walk away. Gobbles, you don't even know how much it breaks my heart every morning when I have to unwrap you from my leg, scoop you up for one last hug, and rush out of the room before you notice again. Please know how much Mommy and Daddy love you and that we will always come back to you, no matter what.

Each afternoon when we arrive to pick you up, you reinforce to us that it's ok, deep down you are content, probably even happy with your friends at school. You're so enthralled in your babbling conversation with the other kids, that it usually takes you a minute or two to notice I'm there. But when you hear my voice, your head whips around so quickly you'd think an exorcism was taking place. Within seconds you are by my side and standing at my leg with the widest smile a mom could ask for. I love these moments, they are what gets me through the workday.

At night the old routine of television and computers has long gone out the window as we spend the hours that you are awake exploring every toy in the living room. We'll crisscross the room on our hands and knees and chase the puppies. I'll lay down and lift you high above my head, do a few chest presses then throw you on my knees for crunches for good measure. You laugh so hard that you drool all over me!

You are proving to be a bit of a picky eater like your Daddy. No jarred veggies for you. You take your cereal, oatmeal, or fruit pretty well, but dinnertime you'd much rather have the real stuff. Somehow you absolutely love the barbecue sauce your Daddy makes. Against his warnings, "it's too hot", I'll let you lick a little off of my finger, and you open your mouth so wide looking for a second bite. While we take turns eating dinner and entertaining you, you'll climb up to the tv tray where the food is and try to have some big people food.

Some Ribs, Please!

Last night, you were climbing all over Daddy on the couch, and I again talked about how adorable you are, loving hanging on your Daddy because it's like looking in a futuristic mirror. He replied Gobbles is a fun-sized me. I can't get the image out of my head, and he's absolutely right. Now if I could just find a way for your Daddy to dress as a 6 foot candy bar for halloween, we may have found your costume.

Gobbles, you have three months left until I can no longer even call you an "infant". 22 lbs and 25 in tall, you shift and squirm so much I can barely hold you still to change your diaper. You have a handful of teeth and are finally getting a little more hair. You crawl like a champ, stand up on everything, and walk with your dinosaur guy. You've learned how to clap and do it all the time when Enrique Iglesias, Katy Perry, or Lady Gaga are on the radio. If you're not in your carseat when music comes on you immediately begin to bebop to the beat. You've got much more rhythm than your Mommy, probably getting that from your Grandpop and your Aunt T. I have heard a Momma here and there, but your prime word is still Dada.

I'm going to take full advantage of your recent clinginess and make sure I get in all the hugs and kisses I can get. I apologize if it makes your seperation anxiety stick a little longer, but when you're in middle school not wanting to hang out with Mommy and Daddy at all I know I'll look back and think it didn't last long enough. I love you so much Gobbles.

Love,
Momma