Thumbs

Dear Eleanor,

You are eight months old and you are eating still about half of the puffs that you are given. Kima eats the other half. You like to stab each of the puffs with your thumb, like you are spearing a fish.

Two nights ago I gave up on getting up with you in the middle of the night. The ear plugs make it easier to sleep through your whimpering, or perhaps you are not even perturbed, who knows! This morning I was aware that you began crying around 5:45. But Mama does not get up before 6am (at least until you get sick again).

Your first little tooth is juuuuust starting to poke through your bottom gum. Yesterday you kept sticking your tongue all the way out, over and over again, feeling it. We are curious to know how fast it rises up - from looking like a small splinter under your gum to its full height.

Dad says you like to give him your socks, but not your birds. I saw you stack the fat little bird on top of two wooden blocks yesterday when we were Skyping with Anna, and it didn't fall off. Dana and Philip gave you the blocks - they spell your name. One of them is currently under the couch.

I cannot stop looking at these photos by Alain Laboile. They make me think that this is how childhood should be, muddy, full of water, and swinging.

You enjoy standing up with our help but you remain frustrated by forward motion, in general. You prefer to roll toward the ottoman or under the couch, rather than towards Kima's bed, which reassures me.

Uncle Daniel was here and he loves you, it is very sweet. We love you too!

Love, Mama