Bun, Baby, BunJanuary 12, 2011 at 7:43 am | Posted in Bun | 21 Comments
Tags: Babies, Boys, Children, Family, Food, Growing Up, Milestones, Motherhood, Parenting
My Bun is eight months old. He’s in that in-between place, no longer a baby but not yet a toddler.
He still has no teeth. (And no hair.) But he sits up. He rolls over. He started crawling four days ago, slowly but determined.
He is physical. He loves to hit things to see what they will feel and sound like. The harder and louder the better. He jumps and bounces. He yanks earrings and hair. He grabs glasses off faces. My glasses. Off my face.
He is vocal. He growls and screeches. He yells and cries. And when he laughs, I imagine it’s the same sound a baker makes as he dips his finger into a bowl of icing for a first taste. It’s special and sweet. It’s delicious.
He eats Cheerios and gourmet flavored air that Gerber likes to package and sell as “Puffs.” He gets slobbery gobs stuck on his chin and cheeks. He’s coming around to pureed broccoli.
He sleeps with a yellow blanket that has a duck embroidered in one corner. I have no idea where it came from.
He wants his pacifier above all else.
Except, sometimes, when it’s me he wants, when only Mommy will do. When he snuggles his peach-fuzz head into the crook of my neck and squeezes his eyes shut. When I comfort him in the way that only a mother can, without knowing how or why, only knowing that I can, I do, I will.
And I’m comforted, too.