You are 8 months old today. You are very much a little boy now; you wave at people, you squeal with laughter when we tickle you, you wear tartan flannel pyjamas to bed, you hand things to me and then beam happily when I say ‘ta’. You bob up and down when you hear music or someone sings. You have to go to your grandparents once or twice a week when I work but you don’t make a fuss about being away, and flap your arms when you return home. You’ve started making a growling sound which you find hilarious. You went to your first 1st birthday party at the weekend. You had a play date last week and tried to hold the little girl’s hand, staring at her as you touched her arm (it was cute when you tried to hold her hand, not so much when you lunged for her ears).
Sometimes you sleep right through the night, other times you wake up in the small hours – like this morning. I woke at 3.30am to your bleating cries – I thought perhaps you just wanted to see us, to know that we were there. But I knew that if you saw me you would cry to be held. So I tried to offer you comfort in another way – I crawled into your room and turned on a little sound machine (lent to us by a midwife when you were a newborn) to the heartbeat sound. And crawled out. By the time I climbed back into bed, your wails were broken up by pauses as you listened to the rhythmic beating. Within five minutes you were asleep. I guess I’m learning.
In the last week you have suddenly stopped hating being on your tummy so much and have started to tentatively push onto your knees, sticking your bum up in the air for a second or two, as if trying it out cautiously. I don’t think you will crawl for long, if at all; all you want to do is be on your feet. If I hold out my hands when you’re sitting on the floor, you grab onto them and pull yourself up to standing, with an expression of such pride it makes me smile every time.
You fill every day with light and laughter. And I still look at you with the same feeling of complete and utter awe as I did 8 months ago today.