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Dear Ezra: Month Seven

  • Tagged The kids, The letters
  • Commenters Lacey

Dear Ezra,

Watching you try to figure out crawling this month has brought us no end of entertainment. A month ago, the best you could do was get up on your hands and knees and … shake. Actually it was more of a shimmy. It was as if your body was matchbox car and all it took to get it moving was a few back-and-forths on the track. Instead, after the shaking proved fruitless, you’d collapse onto the rug and fall back onto the more conventional methods of motion, like rolling aimlessly and the proto-crawl, AKA “the commando.”

Then one day, it somehow occurred to you that you should move an arm. You reveled in that for about a week. Then you figured out that, holy moly, you could shift your weight and do the same thing with the other arm. Boom, crawling. That was only a few days ago. Today you went for your longest crawl yet, across the rug, and you only had to stop for a breather once.

The extra energy that’s propelling you across the floor is also making you a blast to play with. Mom and I have a small repertoire of games that we know you like, and we’re always trying out new ones to see what sticks. You haven’t quite figured out hide-and-seek yet, but you’re slowly catching onto the idea of anticipation and surprise. It’s not the tickling itself that affects you much, but the sight of those tickle monsters slowly approaching you from above always makes you go slack-jawed with delight. Your eyes squint, and from the bottom of your belly comes a hearty, sustained laugh. Your giggles, when they come, are like a mainline of endorphins. OD’ing on them is a serious possibility.

This month also saw your first swimming lessons. You continue to earn the E-Z of your name by being such an easygoing kid in the water. The sessions are only a half-hour long, but even that is too much for some of those other babies. Not for you. You’re as content as a clam, looking around, playing with the toys, whatever. You are unflappable. You cannot be flapped.

You’re starting to eat a lot more solid foods. Mama is treating you right with all sorts of homemade concoctions, from squash to peas, from chicken to beef. She swears you have favorites, but I’m not sure. (She also thinks you prefer Afropop dance music to other kinds [whereas I think you’re just happy to hear any kind of beat], but who can say for sure.) Whatever it is, you eat it up with gusto, if not precision. Filing under “Things I never got until I had a kid”: how it is that more food ends up on the outside than in. I’m not sure what percentage of all these goods are getting digested, but I’d put the over/under at 40%.

Somedays I look at you and think, you used to change so much, but it’s kind of slowed down lately. Then I write up a letter like this, and look at those pictures from a month ago, and two months, and six months, and I realize how crazy I am. You are constantly changing, fast. I can’t imagine you any other way than how you are now, yet you were SO DIFFERENT six months ago. Sometimes when I’m encouraging you to develop a new skill, I pause and wonder if maybe I should step back a little. Maybe I should enjoy these days of crawling before attempting to teach you how to stand. But to be honest, it’d be hard to hold you back. Just as I’m writing this, I looked over and noticed that you had managed to sit yourself up — for the first time ever, as far as either of us have witnessed. No rest for you; it’s never too early to move onto the next big thing. I shouldn’t be surprised.

Love ya,
Your pop

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