Friday, March 30, 2007

11 months. 5 days.

Dear Claire,
This morning your dad brought you into our bed so you could nurse. As soon as you were finished, you did this little flip over move and started crawling around the bed. Lately, nursing has become tricky. You want to move so badly that you stay latched on, but stand up on my lap or do little pilates moves with the rest of your body. I’m guessing that we will have to start the weaning process soon. If you would have told me a year ago that I’m going to miss nursing, I would have thought you were crazy. Like many parts of motherhood, I had no idea how special nursing was going to be.

You at 11 months, are ridiculously social and happy. I have been known to duck and hide from people I know, but you, girlie, you engage everyone. I love to watch you when we’re in the park, you wave at people, animals, statues. People can’t help but wave back at that dimply little hand. You are just fearless. You take it all in with those giant eyes and attempt eye contact with everyone you meet. Store clerks, bikers, tough looking toddlers. You charm them all.

Yesterday, a man commented that you were smiling at him and he called you a little girl instead of a baby. I stopped for a minute. I couldn’t believe he was talking about my girl baby. But of course, he was. Not such a baby any more. In her place is this social, crawling all over the place, sippy cup drinking, major meltdown when it's time to change a diaper, but everything can be solved with a handful of Cheerios, toddler.

Take your time getting bigger, sweetgirl. There's no rush.