Bebe update: Twenty months


I’m starting to lose count of how many months you are. We’re pretty close to the end of the month-by-month thing. I’m very ready for a two-year-old you but but there are a few things I’m not ready to let you grow out of yet…

The face you make when you do ‘foo’ on hot dishes…

The baby fat that’s already melting away from your thighs…

Your tiny starting-out voice, which is beginning to take shape and sound…

You’re developing your own sense of humor. That’s something I can always be proud of, from your first laugh to the times you make me laugh, a daily basis now. Even your showman brother laughs at your brand of jokes, and tries your material out.

You’re delicate and sensitive and cuddly and you don’t let people coffee tables push you around.

“Nu nu nu!” And serves Koala right, he got soap in your eyes (though you have to admit, you love the tender way he washes your hair in the bath; and he’s the only one you’ll let do it).

One day you’ll find out the same month you fell in love with Elmo was the same month Elmo… well… never mind, but I love the way you squeal when you see the muppet suddenly appear outta nowhere on your ‘socks!’ or ‘pajamas!’ More than that, I love the way every item of clothing is ‘pajamas!’ (with a shock-surprise !).

You’re really kinda musical, B. I wonder if that’ll carry though. Your teachers were so sad when I had to pull you out of gan early one day to get your broken tooth checked out (yes, that happened, my beloved second child). You had been in the middle of a music/dance session and you looked almost as delighted to see me as you were to be holding an instrument.

I just wonder… if it’ll take a post-Hanukah miracle… to get you weaned off the dance parties you start when you play that menora toy that sings ‘Dreidal Dreidal.’

Bebe update: Twelve months.

Good night, beautiful little Bebe.

I’m looking at you after you’ve fallen asleep at my chest. You’re exhausted after an active day in the warm April sun over Jerusalem. Your eyes are shut and your forehead is glistening with sweat from our body heat together.

You’re an amazing creature.

It’s been a year since you came to me. And spent the next twelve months teaching me about… modesty. About watching and soaking it all in. About patience. About waiting and enjoying it when it finally comes. About gratitude. About smiling appreciatively, about making other people feel good by reflecting their own goodness.

You’re my nature baby. Fresh air, cool water, soft grass, warm sun. You feel these things and you truly enjoy them and it makes me enjoy them. I’m lucky to have you for that.

In other news, you’ve spent the last month standing up for yourself. Testing it, trying it, taking it further. I think you know what’s coming next. Looking forward to watching you take that first step.

Chalk it up to your genetics, to your ever-present older brother, to your observational skills, but you’ve got a funny bone or two and you’re beginning to grow your inner goof. I’ve been saying it since those first few weeks, and it’s only getting better…

Happy birthday, my funny, funky, fantastic Bebe.

Time flies when you’re pulling yourself across tiles.

One day, you’re nursing your brand-newborn in your bed at home.

The next, (or 5.5 months later) you turn around for under a minute only to turn back and realize your baby is not where you left her, but rather pulling herself at a steady pace across the floor, reaching into the bottom shelf, pulling out a basket of toy cars, and sucking on one.

In the blink of a childhood.