Look at me. That's right; I'm 7 months old. I've got my tiara on my head, my phone in my mouth, my polka-dot pjs on and those awesome eyebrows telling you I think I'm pretty cool. My sisters accessorized and posed me, and they're partially responsible for my zest for life, my strength, and my nonchalance at being dragged, bounced, swung, and carried.
I had my six-month developmental check this week, which was a fun appointment with a physical therapist. She put me on a mat with toys and watched me sit up, grab and slobber all over some play keys, and roll over (my first time was on my sister's birthday this month!), perform my admirable ab crunches and baby push-ups. Her conclusion? I'm right on track.
I enjoy growling, giggling, squealing, kicking my feet, and grabbing hair and earrings. I started eating solid foods this month, but I still prefer breastfeeding and the bottle. A smushy banana in one of those mesh contraptions is a special treat, though. I love Itsy Bitsy Spider and Pat-a-Cake. My favorite toys are Carlos the Flower and Little Guy (ask my dad).
My hair is growing in (just like my mom's, finally), and my arms and legs are still deliciously plump.
I remind those around me every day to enjoy this moment; life is good.
Love,
Tootsie
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