happy nine months, baby menace.

Dear Leila,

I would have written this yesterday, on your actual nine-month day, but you decided a couple of days ago that you are undergoing your first existential crisis. In baby terms, this means you screamed for two days straight. We're working through it together and you seem much more at ease with your existence today.

You've now been an outside baby for as long as you were in an inside baby. You're turning into a totally awesome tiny human with definite opinions and preferences. You have just mastered pulling yourself up onto furniture and it delights you to no end. So much so, in fact, that when you're standing you'll often look over your shoulder with a big grin on your face to make sure your audience fully appreciates your accomplishment.

You still don't have any teeth, but that doesn't stop you from eating a ton. Your current favourites are pitted kalamata olives, humous, cheerios and mango baby food. I especially like that you like olives. It makes me feel related. This is important since people are constantly telling me how much you look like your dad. In fact, no one has told me that you look like me. Although there are times when I am looking at your face that I feel this strange twinge of familiarity, like I am looking at a part of me reflected in you.

Lately, you have learned the joys of making a mess. You like to pull leaves off of plants, dirt out of pots, cotton balls out of the bag, laundry out of the hamper. Sometimes in the morning while I eat breakfast I put your toy basket on its side and let you remove all the toys. You think this is pretty much the best thing ever. And I think you're pretty much the best thing ever.

Love always,

Mom