Seven Months

From this:
To this: Is that fucking amazing, or what? Really, there is no other way to say it. I mean, what have you done in the past seven months? Read a couple books? Gained or lost a couple pounds? Considered learning a foreign language? All of that pales in the face of Meg's accomplishments. Not only has she grown more than seven inches, and more than tripled her weight without ever looking fat, she has also learned to sit up, drink from a cup, say "dog"and "hi," and eat from a spoon. She knows how to splash in the bathtub, turn around in the exersaucer, bounce in the jumper, and has developed a sense of humor that is already better than anyone who laughs at Dane Cook. Oh, and she is getting adept at taking off her diaper, which I am sure will be an absolute delight once she is more mobile. Maybe we can just put down papers.

Every day with Meg is a joy to behold. I hate to wax rhapsodic, but I can't help it when I talk about this wonderful girl. Every day I watch her do something different, and can see her file her new skills away in her head for future use. Today, for instance, she figured out how to pick up a ball using only one hand. She rolled it up her arm until it rested in the crook of her elbow. When it worked the first time she dropped it, and did it three more times. I clapped every time, not only to encourage her, but because it was the best show of the day.

Last night at dinner Ryan was saying how he can't wait until Me starts to talk, and walk. While I look forward to those events, I can definitely wait -- and not just because our house is a child proofing nightmare. I just want to savor every moment while Meg is still a baby. Every moment that she can be swept up and cuddled, and thrown into the air with ease. Every moment when I see wonder in her eyes at the smallest thing. Every moment that her smile cuts through my cynicism and sarcasm and makes me write posts like this.

Oh, how I love our girl.