it's my party and i'll kvell if i want to
Friday, February 22, 2008
Nine months today: Maggie's been the same amount of time on dry land as not. Talking to other mums, apparently I'm not alone in finding this a poignant marker, almost more significant than the first birthday. It takes a long time for your body to let go of them.
On a not unrelated subject, we're continuing with the boobie thing because Maggie is still most partial. Mind you she's cutting her first tooth so this may be revised in fairly short order, I don't know: I've never been in a position to decide whether to wean a baby before. After the difficulties nursing Becca, I honestly didn't think I'd still be breastfeeding Maggie at nine months.
Having spent the past few weeks commandoing it around the place at terrifying speeds, the wee'un has now turned her attention to trying to stand, and has so far managed to pull herself up on the side of her cot onto her knees, where she squats looking extremely pleased with herself and clearly plotting how she can vault over the edge to freedom. So we're going to have to drop the cot base. Current favourite phoneme, despite my attempts to get her to pronounce 'm's, is Da da da da da da da (how sharper than a serpent's tooth &c...). With the extra advantage that 1mm of tooth confers, she's more of an eating machine than ever, and it recently dawned on me that she doesn't, during meals, do that trick that I though all babies did of storing baby mush in her cheeks until critical mass is achieved and then letting fly and spurting it all out in a fine orange mist (evil cackle optional). Sensible kid, she obviously thinks that there is no point wasting perfectly good food. We're off to Plunket on Monday so vital statistics will be duly furnished.
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