Six Months
Signe is six months old today, and what a day it was.
The first excitement of the day started when she was nursing and I felt a little stab on a very sensitive part of my body that I don’t like to feel little stabs on. I let her finish eating and when she pulled away, I put my finger in her mouth and found that she has finally cut her first tooth. She has been working on it for weeks now. We still can’t see anything, but if you reach in there (which I’d kindly ask you not to do) you can totally feel that little sucker starting to poke its way through.
Then we had our six month check up. She’s still little; that’s about the gist of it. She is average for height but really light for her age. I’m willing myself not to worry about it. She’s the picture of health in every other way and developmentally kind of a rock star.
She also got more shots today, and, because I’m a bad mother I guess, I went to dinner with Alisa and Olivia and forgot to re-up Sig’s Tylenol. We left the restaurant with Signe in tears, our fellow diners in a visible state of annoyance, and having let Alisa pay for her own birthday dinner. I’m also tacky, it turns out.
After a difficult tussle getting her jammies on without disturbing her very sore legs, Sig Vicious is now enjoying the sleep of a medicated baby. I’m taking the Tylenol to bed with me for her midnight and 4 a.m. doses. Should be an interesting night.
But really, she’s still the easiest, funniest, cutest, best baby in the world. These days she gets a big kick out of patty cake, peek-a-boo, and her exersaucer. She’s also starting to have a bit of separation anxiety. If she’s not completely enthralled with what she’s doing, she’ll freak out a little when one of us leaves the room. It’s both very sweet and kind of awful.
She smiles at strangers, laughs at pretty much everything her daddy does, and makes me feel like the most important person on the planet. I’m not sure it gets better than that.