Memo to Emmy: 9 Months

  

So you're a big girl now. Big cheeks, big noggin (90th percentile), big voice. You are crawling backwards on wobbly knees and you can stand up while clutching the back of the couch and yell at Asian Grandma when she's in the kitchen.

You have your Mommy's enthusiasm for food. You love to eat homemade rice porridge. You actually kick your feet and smash your balled up fists onto the high chair top when you see anyone coming toward you carrying bananas and persimmons. And any pouch containing freeze dried yogurt drops. 

You're still sleeping like a champ every night, from about 730AM to 730PM. Dios Mio, it's a miracle! You have ridiculous amounts of teeth growing in. But they make for a darn cute smile. And you can say "bye bye" with a giggle because you think waving is just the bees knees.

Your biggest accomplishment: you poop in the toilet. Usually just once a day but you hit a new record: three times in one day. We're thinking of posting a video. Not to embarrass you or anything, but it is just SOOOO cute to watch you drop your own little kids off at the pool. 

Your daddy continues to do Baby Boot Camp drills with you to get you to develop your upper body strength. He wants you to do what your mommy could never do in her whole life even after watching Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2. A pull up.

You can grasp something in each hand simultaneously. Watch out fragile things, Emmy is a two handed wrecking ball and she likes to bang things together.

We agree your tiny back is one of our favorite body parts. It's just so small and smooth and satisfying to go nom nom nom and blow raspberries into. 

And what a reader you've become. You love to stare at every word on every page as we flip through your books. Often you turn the pages yourself. One by one with your left hand; you're turning out to be a southpaw. Daddy calls Lefty your finesse hand. Righty is the enforcer. The one that slams into everything and gets 'er done. You like letters more than pictures, it seems. Very much the opposite of your father. Rotating through your library right now: Fuzzy Yellow Duck, Everyone Poops, Brown Bear, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, and Miss Mary Mack. I think sometimes Daddy wants to have silver buttons all down his back back back.

Music is your BFF. You got rhythm, sugar buns. That bounce bounce you got going to Beyonce and Baby Bash and Black Eyed Peas is just so much fun to watch. And gives me hope you may, in fact, have overcome your White Girl genes. 

You're sort of a micro baby, 17.5 pounds and in the 10th percentile for height, but now that you seem to be done breastfeeding from the boob, we are loading you up with quantifiable bottles full of milk and bowls full of menudo. Project Chubbify Emmy, activate!

We look at you in awe most days. You think it's really ridiculous when we try to go in for a group hug and triple kiss, but we do it anyway whenever we can. You just give a rueful half smile and resign yourself to your silly Mom and Dad. 

9 whole months Emmy. As they say in prison, you've been on the outside longer than you were inside. I hope you are enjoying life with us at least a fraction of how much we are with you. 

Love you, Little Shorty,

Mom and Pops