I'm officially in denial about you growing up.
When people ask how old you are, I have a very hard time answering them and have actually considered knocking a few months off my reply - will they believe me if I say you're only 9 months old? I was comfortable with 9 months. Heck, even 10 was doable. But 11 months is just getting too close to 12 months... and there is NO WAY I have a
one year old. Just stay my little baby girl a little while longer, ok?
This past month has been good to us, though. Your routine is pretty well established, you take two naps a day and are generally pretty happy up until bedtime. You LOVE being outside, and we spend lots of time hanging out on the grass at the park on our big picnic blanket. You're a little rascal, though... like the time you secretly, stealthily, crawled over to another little baby's blanket and stole his toy when you thought nobody was looking. You used to stay put right beside us, content to just crawl on top of us and take in the sights and sounds around us, but now you've become a lot bolder in your exploration of the wider world beyond the picnic blanket. It's good. We encourage it. Just please don't go around stealing toys from other kids.
You give me the sweetest, slobberiest, open mouth kisses now when I ask for one. They're wet, and gross, but oh buggy they are my favorite thing in the whole world. You refuse to kiss your daddy, though. He asks for them daily, and you just laugh, push his face away with your hands and turn your head away. I secretly (and selfishly) like that you save them just for me... but you should give one up to your daddy once in a while so he would feel the love, too. Maybe you just don't like kissing his scruffy beard. I know, kissing beards is weird.
Even though you don't give him kisses, you are TOTALLY and undeniably your daddy's little girl. The moment he comes home from work you drop whatever it is you're doing and crawl over to the door as fast as you can to greet him. He swoops you up, flips you upside down, and kisses your fat belly. You laugh and wiggle and it makes my heart burst to see how you adore him. It's also becoming apparent that you totally have him wrapped around your little finger already. I can already tell he is such a sucker and will end up spoiling you rotten. You'll just look up at him with those big brown eyes and say, "Pleeeaaase Daddy??"and you'll get the puppy or the car or whatever it is you'll be asking for. Believe me, bug, I know how this works...
The house is a disaster, your toys are strewn across the living room floor. I'm constantly telling you to not to stick my dirty flip flops in your mouth, not to try to pull out the cords out of any and all electrical sockets, not to slam your little fingers in the kitchen/bathroom/bedroom drawers. You drive me crazy. I'm totally exhausted. I can't remember my life pre-bug... And yet, somehow, I can't imagine my life without you. I love you, and I love our perfect little family.
I know you can't stay 11 months forever, and you will inevitably turn a year old... and then two... and then three. Just keep being my sweet little bug, and I'll eventually come around to the fact that you're growing up right before my eyes.
I love you.