And just like that, Emma is 8 months old.
All week long, I’ve been counting the days, mentally reminding myself that Sunday was the day for pictures. She needed a onesie on Sunday. Sunday, Sunday, Sunday.
Well, today is/was Sunday. And I forgot until about 10 minutes until bath time that today was the 8 monthday.
Luckily, I already had a kid once who has a whole set of 12 onesies in his closet. Hooray! Except, you know, poor second child Emma whose Mama forgot something important so she had to wear her brother’s handmedown.
Meh. This is just fodder for therapy later down the road, right?
At 8 months Emma:
- is into everything.
- She’s not walking yet, but she is trying to stand up without holding on. And falling over.
- She still loves food and has yet to really turn away anything we’ve given her.
- A schedule is emerging, I think, and I’m doing my best to foster it.
- is still nursing like a champ, which means that I’ve now nursed her from the tap for as long as Joshua was breastfed.
- still hates the car seat.
(These pics are bad. Like, BAD BAD. Since I forgot to take these earlier in the day and we live in a cave of a house, there is zero natural light. Oh well.)
“No more pictures, Mama. Put the cap back on, please.”