The Boisvert Life

I’ve decided to take a page from one of my favorite websites and start writing “birthday letters” to Lindsay. Each birthday (or “month anniversary” until she reaches an age where I’m no longer counting her age in months….keep in mind, that could be 16 or 17….) I’ll write directly to Lindsay rather than the general blog-reading public, so that she’ll have some personal notes from her mommy to her, to mark each special anniversary of the day she was born. This will inevitably make her roll her eyes with disgust when she’s a teenager, but I don’t care ….moms have the right to do this mushy stuff.

8 months….wow.

I really can’t believe it’s already been that long! The day I brought you home from the hospital, I couldn’t have imagined all of the things you’d be doing by now. It seems like every day you do something new and amazing that makes my jaw drop in shock, and then makes me laugh out loud because I can’t believe you just did that at eight months of age! You crack me up on a daily basis, and I thank you for that. I’ve never met anyone quite as entertaining as you my dear.

Today you did two new things that shocked me….not really just because you did them, because they’re small things in the big scheme of life, but because I think back to seven months ago, when you just laid there all day long, and I couldn’t imagine you doing anything of your own volition! Today you figured out clapping, and digging the snacks out of the diaper bag.

I started clapping at you this week: every time you would pick up one of your snacks off of your tray and put it in your mouth all by yourself I would applaud you. Tonight, every time your daddy or I would give you a piece of our bread at dinner, you would carefully put it in your mouth and then clap your adorable little hands together over and over again in celebration while looking back and forth between your daddy and I, smiling and gumming up your bread like all get out. I don’t think this will ever get old. There we’ll be when you’re 16, sitting at the dinner table, me clapping wildly as you put a forkful of pasta in your mouth, and you looking at me like you have no idea how I got you past the age of two.

While at Costco today, I sat you in the cart and put the diaper bag next to you. You must have been watching me take the little blue lid off of your snack container, because, once I had decided you’d had enough snacks and put the lid back on, you knew exactly what to do. You twisted your little torso around, reached into the bag and, I kid you not, pulled the lid off of the container with one hand, and reached into it and grabbed a few treats with the other! Another jaw dropping moment for mommy, let me tell you! No matter how deep I buried that container in there or how many toys and burp cloths I piled on top of it, you managed to worm your little arm in right to it!

I finally had to relocate the diaper bag into the lower part of the cart, and let you attempt to destroy the paper bag holding my prescriptions instead. This was a tough moment for you. I could tell you wanted to tell me off for the whole snack removal thing, but man, there was that paper bag I gave you just sitting there, begging to be ripped, crinkled, smacked into the cart handle and drooled upon. You took the smart route and went for the paper bag distraction. I love you for that, and for everything else that you do. You’re the cutest, sweetest, smartest, most entertaining baby I’ve ever met, and I’m so glad I get to witness your antics for the rest of my life.

Happy 8 months Lindsay.