Six Months of Pippin

You roll over both ways.

You don't sit up yet.

You have two teeth just barely under the gums. (Any day now.)

You decided that your middle finger and ring finger together taste much better than your thumb by itself.

You just today decided to prove how much of an inchy little Pipworm you are, making a circuit halfway around the perimeter of the kitchen.

You are a sympathetic cryer.

You have the best squishy legs.

You are observant and attentive.

You don't like loud noise. Or when you think someone is sad. Or hurt. Or upset.

You love Tadhg; Tadhg loves you. (But someday I'm pretty sure you're going to need a secret hideout for desperate times.)

You are placid, except when a toy doesn't cooperate with your intention for it. (Then you scream.)

You love to smile.

You delight us with your giggle.

And I am still struck at unexpected times at the miracle of your bodily presence here with us. A baby knit together all unseen--made, expected, hoped for, in our hearts for months before you arrived. But never promised to be given into our arms.

And yet here you are.

In our arms, healthy and well and growing.

All the squishy, quiet, smiley joy of you here with us.

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