Lucy: Month Five

Hey Cutes McGee!

How on earth did you get to be 5 months old already? Cripes! I feel like just yesterday I was in Atlanta birthin' you and all of a sudden here you are almost sitting up all by yourself! I guess undertaking a cross country move to a new house smack dab just before the holidays will make the time fly by.


I think I might have mentioned how extraordinarily huge you are once or twice round here, but it bears repeating. You. Are. Gigantic. Eating is so totally your thing. Because you've started getting up at night recently we started trying to feed you rice cereal in the evenings. While sucking food from a spoon isn't a task you've mastered, you love practicing. Your eyes follow every little bit that doesn't make it into your mouth. It's really quite funny to watch you try to suck the drips and drops out of your bib as though we didn't feed you.


We spent your first Christmas back west with your Nana and PaPa. Thank god you had just started figuring out toys, 'cause you got a ton of them. I think there would have been some disappointed faces had you not decided to try and cram them all into your mouth with glee.


You are now old enough to get a great deal of pleasure out of bath time. I lay you down on your little sponge and you go to town kicking and splashing. You seem to always be scheming to either suck on a wash cloth or drink from the cup I'm using to rinse your hair. That's right, my five month old drinks from a cup. Bottles are not so much her thing, but cups? All the rage.


You have this cute little fuzzy hair thing going on. In the long run, I'm willing to bet you are going to out do your brother in the hair department, which is no easy feat. But you have more hair now than he did at your age, so I'm thinking we'll be doing pigtails in no time at all!


Do you know what else is all the rage? Screaming. And shrieking. And yodeling. And singing. And pretty much any other thing involving your voice. You work across a wild range of tones, high to low, but the volume is always at 11. Except for when you get so high that only the neighborhood dogs can hear you.

Your new voice is the big thing that made me realized that you really are growing up little lady bug. Some mornings I can't tell whether it's you or your brother singing to me (and the rising sun) over the monitor. I can't wait to hear all the things you have to tell me. Today, tomorrow and every day after that.

Love,
Momee