4 months big

3 12 2014

It’s easy to stay wrapped up in writing about Evanny–her words are unique in pronunciation, growing in number, fleeting and darling, and I want to catch them all, and knowing it’s impossible just sharpens the goad. But at four months, Tatha is blooming too, sliding just now into the fun parts of babyhood. 20141203-080538.jpgIn the past week, she’s begun laughing at our jiggling her body around, daily rather than a lucky once a week or so, and started to reach for things on her playmat, push them around, rattle her rattles as they dangle above her, & kick the bars to make it make noise. In the past day, she’s started reaching for toys and bringing them to her face to inspect and mouth–right here this morning, playing a game of share and exchange with her big sister, she’s spent more time playing with a thing (plastic keys on a ring) than ever before. 20141203-080515.jpgShe’s started to smile and lean into Evanny’s first kisses of the day, and fuss more audibly when the playmat attacks start coming, and started the annoying baby habit Evanny used to have of refusing to spend time on her tummy, then spending half of the day leaning forcefully out of my arms so her upper half is parallel to the ground, in an apparent effort to fall directly head first to the floor, I guess in an effort to get the robot-body to move forward. Among her other sweet habits of now, if not necessarily new: holding onto, stroking, or patting my face with her trailing arm when she’s leaning away from me facing out at shoulder height. She’s starting to take interest in the things she sees–the kind of where instead of just staring, she gazes with delight and tries to move around you to keep looking at the object of her interest when you move. 20141203-080551.jpgFavourite gazing sights are all jumbles of colour and shape: she likes, in addition to the wildly colourful collection of baby toys, the sink when it’s full of colourful dishes, laundry baskets full of coloured clothes, the rainbow living room lights, bright sunsets, and the paintings on our wall. She laughs like a cough or a grunt so far–no real giggles–and you have to be looking at her to know if it’s a happy sound or a sad one, but when you’re looking, there’s no doubt at all.




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