It's November, and in just a few weeks you'll be six months old. It's hard to believe how fast you are growing, how much new stuff you take on every day like a brave little explorer, discovering the animals in your house, new ways to make noise, and new ways to use your hands.
You started eating solid food this month—your mother smooshed up some fresh bananas and fed them to you from the end of her finger. You grabbed her hand and wouldn't let it go so you could absorb every last molecule of goodness.
Amy went out and bought you some organic baby food, two little containers of bananas and two little containers of sweet potatoes. Both were a big hit, though you do tend to spit up a good bit, and the sweet potatoes color everything orange, even after they've spent some time in your adorable belly.
You've been talking a lot, same as ever, but you've added some new sounds to your repertoire: there's a "gggggaaaa," a "duuuh," and I'm pretty sure you've said "mmmmmmmmmmmm" a thousand times.
A friend of ours loaned us her walker because her third and fourth children are just too old and still too young (respectively) to use it, and as a result, you've been inching yourself around the living room for the last two days. I think you love how independent it makes you feel, but there's definitely a moment when you recognize that no adult is holding you, and I think you miss wrapping your arm around my shoulder and chewing on my shirt.
You've been coughing a lot the last few weeks, too, which worried us at first, but the books say that babies who are teething tend to cough up a lot. And while teeth still haven't shown up, you are a living, breathing fountain of drool, which is a good sign that teeth are coming soon.
You are a huge baby—not fat or anything, just tall and healthy. You started wearing some of the clothes that say "12 mos" last month, when you were just five months old. It's a bit disconcerting, since there are many beautiful pieces of clothing in your drawers that you will never be able to wear again, unless you like wearing a onesie as a winter hat.
In the morning when I come to wake you up, I like to bend down over the crib to kiss you on the nose and on the cheeks. You grab my face with your hands and hold me there with our noses almost touching and you say things to me that I still can't understand. I can't wait to ask you what you were thinking about.
You've done your fair share of laughing these last few months, too. The dog is particularly funny. She chases the cats from room to room, and you grin at her and laugh. One day last month we were in the car and you started laughing at your mother. Something about the way she looked at you must have been hilarious, because you laughed for miles, mi querida Zoe.