Happy four-month birthday, Greta

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In honor of Greta's four-month birthday, I was going to bake her a breast milk cake, but since those don't exist, I wrote her this letter instead.

Dear Greta,

I can’t believe you’re already four months old. I don’t know where the time goes. I was just reminiscing with a friend about how, when you were three weeks old, your dad and I brought you to your very first party, and you slept in our arms the entire time. Now, you’re a ball of energy. Within this past month, you’ve decided that if people are around (even just your dad and me), you need to stay awake to check everything out. We can tell you get tired, but you refuse to go to sleep. The good thing is, once I get you up in your crib, if you’re actually tired, you roll onto your side and conk out immediately. The best part about this newfound curiosity and ability to stay awake longer during the day is that you’ve been able to sleep through the night with somewhat regularity! The first time it happened, we couldn’t believe it. We though, for sure, it was a fluke. Then, you did it over and over for the next two weeks straight. I can’t even tell you how exiting that was after waking up every three hours (more or less) for the previous three months. Sleep is good – very good. Unfortunately, a combination of us moving you into your own room and the recent heat, you haven’t been sleeping quite as well. It’s okay, though, we don’t hold it against you.

Also in the last month, you discovered television. The first time it happened, we had some friends over, and we had Caddyshack on in the background. You were transfixed on it. It was very odd. Ever since then, you can’t get enough of whatever’s on (even when it’s just President Bush speaking). The degree to which you love T.V. really kind of worries your dad and me, so we make a point to limit your T.V. time. I never thought we’d have to limit a three-month-old baby’s T.V. time, but then again, you are my child, and I, too, love T.V. It’s very cute though – when I’m getting you ready in the morning, I’ll have the news on. Your changing table butts up against the T.V., and when I’m changing your diaper, you will crane your neck up, mouth agape, to watch T.V. upside-down. You love it. Your dad and I decided we should at least attempt to make most of what you watch educational, so we got a Baby Einstein DVD for you. You were slightly interested in it, but I swear your favorite thing is to watch Sex and the City reruns in the evening.

This past month, you’ve become a very efficient eater. Feeding length per session has decreased quite a bit, and you just seem more content now. Sometimes, if I go to feed you and you’re not hungry, you’ll let me know you’re not in the cutest way ever. You’ll look up at me, smile, and start chattering like you’ve got lots of things you want to talk about. It’s super cute, unless you’re due to go to day care, and I know you need to eat or you’ll be a fussy mess either during the car ride or right when you get there. Remember, mom always knows best.

I don’t want to put any undue pressure on you, but I think you might be a super genius. Sometimes, I swear you understand what we’re saying to you. You seem to laugh and smile at all of the appropriate times. You seem to get the biggest laugh when your dad or I say something somewhat inappropriate, which is hilarious. (For example, you love, love, LOVE the word poop, so much so, your first word will probably be “poop.”) Your dad and I both have a pretty good sense of humor, so chances are you’ll turn out fine in that department. If you are, indeed, a super genius, it will be a little harder to peg down where that came from. In addition to the fact that it seems you understand everything going on around you (even your care takers at day care commented on that), you are also unbelievably good at imitating your dad and me. It’s so darn cute. You are making a lot of noises: you can say, “ah-goo,” “goo,” “boo,” “oww,” “guh,” and you also love to make two kinds of raspberries. One time, I swear you said, “I love you,” but it was just that one time, so I won’t count it. Your dad and I will make the same noises, and you will imitate us with amazing accuracy. I can’t believe you can differentiate between “goo” and “boo,” and then know how to make those noises yourself. It just blows my mind. I won’t call Mensa just yet, but I really do think you’re a smart cookie.

The baby books call the age you’re in the “Golden Age of infancy,” and I can see why. Your dad and I are finally getting lots of wonderful payback for the first, thankless couple months. You are turning into an amazing person before our eyes, and it’s the most beautiful thing. We love you so much, and love being your best friends. It already breaks my heart when I think of how you’ll probably treat us when you’re a teenager, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.





Love,


Mom


Comments

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