22 weeks / Five Months
Boy, you got big. Five months big to be exact. Your squishy thighs are a handful now. Your hair got all fluffy and you sit in your pram. We even put you in the highchair yesterday. You’ve all of a sudden noticed Buddy and are desperate to be his best friend (he’s playing hard to get).
Sammy, I can’t wait to have a chat to you and hear the jokes that I know you are storing up to tell me. Let’s just hold off for a little while though. I’m happy with your belly laugh when I try and eat you up for now. Nibbling your button chin makes you squeal the most.
It’s officially October. So long summer. September saw two special weddings. You danced into the early hours at Ruth’s, and grinned at Auntie Nic Nic and her bridesmaids as they walked past you down the aisle. You went on your first plane-ride to Crete, where you had your very first swim in the pool. A little cold to begin with, you weren’t so sure. Soon enough you were splashing and squealing like nobody’s business. You people-watched all week, flirting with the Norwiegan ladies and soaking up every detail. Inquisitive little bean.
That leads me to bath time. You’re fairly reserved during the day, aside from the bouncing in the Jumperoo. But as six o’clock rolls around and you’ve had your happy naked time (with it’s obligatory wee on the carpet), you let loose. In a shallow bath, you’ll shriek and flap your little arms till the ceiling is dripping and so am I. Your eyes are so full of glee, although they soon turn to tears as I wrap you up in your towel. My spring roll ready for bed. You’re exhausted and usually crash out by seven, before Papa gets home.
Napping is beginning to become part of your day. And so is a bottle. It makes me sad to see where your preference clearly lies now. I’m want so badly to breastfeed for a little longer but it’s proving a struggle now that the balance has switched. I keep telling myself that I’m lucky to have done it at all but I can’t help but kick myself for not trying harder when you were fussing. Exhaustion and separation have all played their part recently too and I mustn’t dwell. I’m trying to go easier on myself.
Soon you’ll taste some food (more than the sneaky cucumber you had a suck on in Greece). I’m pretty sure you’re going to like it.