My dear, sweet Silas,
Today you are nine-months-old. By the calendar, you've now been earth-side as long as you were in utero, something that I never thought could happen. I remember those early days and how I thought that November seemed a lifetime away. It seemed that you would be forever nursing. Forever crying. Forever helpless. I'm blown away by the ways in which you've changed in these nine short months, but also by the things that have stayed the same. You can now scoot across the floor with such speed, pulling with your arms, pushing with your right foot and keeping your left foot aloft like a rudder. You pull yourself up to a stand, but usually only when I'm not looking. Your little vocabulary is growing: ma-ma, ba-ba, da-da, mom, nay-nay...you like to try out so many different vowel and consonant combinations. You know your name and love when I sing it to you.
Just a short few weeks ago you couldn't be coaxed into eating anything from a spoon, but now you open your mouth eagerly for a few tablespoons of breakfast and dinner. Last night you discovered that you can jut your jaw out and you spent the evening making mama and papa laugh at your Marlon Brando impersonation. It's just one more emergence of your little personality. You are cautious in groups, even the friends you've known your whole life. You like to play by yourself on the sidelines or sit in mom's lap and observe. But, you like to be silly when it's just you, mama, and papa. A new side of you has emerged that I can only describe as "mischievous," but it arrived at the same time as your new ability to give kisses, so we'll let it slide. You still adore your kitties. You break into the biggest smile and get a special little sparkle in your eye when you see that one of them is within reaching distance.
Everyone comments on your long graceful fingers and your bright blue eyes. You like to look at them from the safety of mom's arms and the sling, giving away sweet little smiles when strangers say, "hello." You are endlessly searching for new things to explore and learn. From the moment your eyes open in the morning, you roll over and start pulling yourself across the bed. You don't know where you're going, only that you need to be going. Thank you for letting me come along on this ride with you. I'm excited to see what the next nine months will bring.