Eight Months

Note: This was written when Colin was eight months. Never mind that he is eight and a half months now. Let's not be picky here.

By some odd luck, Colin continues to be the most ridiculously happy baby, probably because he hasn’t started teething in earnest yet. He is always smiling, always happy, always content with wherever he is, with whatever he’s doing, with whomever is holding him. It is obscene how happy he is and I hope that he never changes. He doesn’t need teeth. Every day I wish to grow up to be just like him: joyful and sweet and affectionate and loved. I do, however, want to stay potty-trained. That particular trait I’ll keep.



We are expanding his food repertoire, as I decided to give up on the mantra of waiting a few days between different kinds of jarred fruit or vegetable. We’ve been feeding him more and more of whatever actual fruit or vegetable we’re eating and he loves it. He quite enjoys graham crackers, and is more than a little bit obsessed with strawberries, though it still takes him a minute to get over the initial tartness and musters up a scrunched up face that makes me laugh out loud. His hand-eye coordination is such now that he lands approximately 30% of self-feeding attempts, with the remaining 70% spread equally between his clothes, my clothes, and the dogs. At any rate, it seems like he’s having fun.

Speaking of fun, Colin has discovered jokes and is constantly cracking himself up with his antics. Like every other person to ever be a baby, he lives for peek-a-boo, has for months. But this month, he found a new way to play:



Would you look at that? My son is a comedic genius. Just ask him. I imagine that he’ll be a good poker player too. Who could think ill of someone with these eyes?



He is so mobile now, army-crawling/worming/breaststroking his way around so efficiently, but his lack of any sense makes me question how humans evolved to be at the top of the food chain. He will prop himself up on all fours and hurl himself forward into the same obstacle – table leg, packed box, cat – as many times as I will let him, screaming the whole time at the unfairness of it all that there is something in his way. He also has become dangerously curious about things like wall outlets, extension cords, and the edge of the bed. What draws him to these things? Why, when faced with a room full of toys, does he head directly for the basement stairs? The only thing to do is to raise an eyebrow ironically at the mysteries of the universe and go rescue the cat.



On a recent trip to visit the Best Nephew Ever, Colin had his first encounter with a swing. As you might expect, he absolutely loved it, with a huge grin and belly laughs throughout. His mouth was open so wide in happiness that he might have been trying to catch a passing ladybug as a midday snack. It was the laughter that got me, though. The constant, joyful laughter that refreshed me like a cool glass of water. Moments like this are why people become parents, why humanity has survived its countless hardships. The simple joy of the wind in your hair on a beautiful afternoon, laughing until you cry with people that love you; it is an example of the reason that life has meaning. Experiences and moments like this define a person and fit together to form a life. It’s easy to forget about money and moving and the pressures of work when a little, beautiful, perfect person is having such a moment right in front of you. Not to mention when you’re having one right along side him.