Finn. Finsty-Foo. Fat little Finch.
Your tenth month ranks highest on my scorecard for life. We’re coming to the end of our perfect summer — the one during which you, Daddy, and I spent almost every waking (and non-sleeping) hour together, the one when we sang and danced and splashed like three kids and laughed at all the same wordless jokes. You seem to understand that it’s all about the delivery. Oh, I could bask in your laughter for hours without stopping, Finn. Nothing would get done, but my heart would be a warm hum.
As far as adult tasks go, nothing much HAS been done, actually. Our closet and loft are still overflowing with useless things. My yoga practice is nonexistent. The stack of must-read books by my bed is growing rather than shrinking. In terms of baby activity on the other hand, things have been VERY productive, haven’t they, my love? Although I’ll give you a five in the sleep category, you definitely score a ten on floor exercises and might be a contender on the balance beam. In the past month, you’ve learned to stand on your own for up to seventeen seconds at a time! You’ve also started to clap and bounce to music, mastered those slippery finger foods, and said your first words on cue: “up, up, up.” You certainly are growing up, up, up.
In some ways, maybe it’s a bit too fast for us. It seems that we can’t move quickly enough to protect you from harm even in our own, small home, regardless of how many safety straps and bumpers we attach to things. Your tenth month was marred with minor injuries: a cut on your right baby toe, a toenail scrape on your forehead, a paper cut on your nose, a bruise on your temple. But your cells and psyche seem to rebuild faster than mine do. You’re up, up, up and moving, smiling, bouncing before I myself can get my bearings.
I’m terrified of the big fall we’re headed for, though, and hope you’ll forgive me for it. There’s only one way things can go after perfect: our lazy summer is coming to an end. We won’t have autumn leaves down here in South Florida, but you’ll feel the change, the loss, when Daddy and I go back to work. Will you rebound just like always? Will you still grin with your seven teeth, scrunch up your nose, and make your excited pterodactyl noise?
I have to believe that the answer is yes. We’ve grown so attached to one another, it’s true, but I’ve spied you in secret, content on your own, standing with your hands on the padded windowsill, rocking back and forth on your tiptoes as you watched the outside bushes shake in the breeze. You love the world too much to not be interested in what’s coming next.