(Fae at 9 months)
Fae at 10 months is joy, always joy, but she is also so very formidable. She falls down and doesn’t cry, she doesn’t toddle – she launches herself forward for 2 and 3 steps before falling forward.
She attacks her brother with gusto. She is not ever timid. She is skeptical of strangers and will press her head against my chest. But always in the way where she can still get a good look.
She can already throw a little tantrum when she doesn’t get what she wants, when she doesn’t get the same attention as other babies. I see fire behind her eyes and I am proud.
Fae crawls fast. She runs after her brother, trailing behind him as he encourages her to chase him, or flees from her and declares, “No Fae! I don’t LIKE you!” For the moment. Until I hear, “No, mama, that’s my baby. But… but… I want MY baby.” Sorry, kid. Get your own.
She is slowly morphing into a toddler and I am not ready!
I am not ready to be approaching one year. But, no matter, it comes anyway.
Ten months, still my baby. My last baby. Right? Oh if they could all be like Fae. Or like Gabriel. If only I didn’t have to be pregnant. GAH. If only we could afford a house that was big enough for ten babies!
Oh Fae, you happy minx. You give me baby fever constantly.
Between 9 and 10 months you took your first step, you got two more teeth, your little bald spot has completely disappeared, you went to Miami, went swimming for the first time, and charmed a million people all along the way.
(Fae @ 10 months)