This chunky little porridge monster is seven months old today. I know it's cheesy to mark and celebrate the turning of every month, but that's how it is the first year with kiddos isn't it?
You grab yourself at wonder and amazement with the passing of each month, because the changes are so many, and so frequent, and this little person is transformed all the time. Heck, in the beginning you mark every week passing!
It's that eternally bittersweet train of hellos and goodbyes you have to face when you have these little people in your life, and it's not always easy to deal with, but oh how giving and exciting and thrilling it is.
And now, our little Falkster is here: He has started to push himself up on his hands, so high up that he slides backwards because he doesn't yet push his bum up at the same time. That of course is annoying, because it removes him from whatever he's trying to reach. He makes loads of funny sounds, especially the very cute strumming of lips, which he even tries to do on himself, and on us (he'll bang his hand on my mouth while saying aaaaaaaah). He laughs and laughs, especially when his big sisters come jumping towards him. He grabs me around the neck and holds me tight while sucking my nose. He drools on anyone within two meters radius. He loves our animals and has started some sort of secret squeaking communication with them. He eats porridge and dinner and he still loves his mummy's boobies. He charms everyone with one flutter of those eyelashes. He is chubby and soft and his hair smells natural and warm and plain wonderful.
Happy seven-month-birthday, snugglepuss!
