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Six months of Biscuit.

2008-12-03 - 11:14 a.m.

Dear Biscuit,

Today you turn half a year old. Gone forever is my squeaking little newborn and, though I miss him, I get over it because in his place is an adorable, chubby baby who loves to grab his feet, get zerberted on his belly, and bounce in his Jolly Jumper.

You are beautiful. Youíre beauty comes not only from your cute-as-a-button appearance, but the way you radiate good cheer at anyone who comes into your line of sight. I am rarely in a line with you when I donít hear exclamations of delight from people behind us. I look at you and, sure enough, youíre beaming at them and they, in turn, just light up. Itís a rare gift to be able to brighten so many peopleís days, but itís a gift you have in spades right now. Even you have your limits though: the other day I caught you trying determinedly to charm a cardboard poster of a woman in a store, and had to gently break it to you that I was afraid that one wasnít going to turn and smile back at you.

I love being in contact with your warm little body and fuzzy little head. Like your sister before you, every night you snuggle down between your father and I and you usually make sure you have at least a hand on both of us. I know that, technically, it will be hard to eventually evict you from our bed, but I also know that right now I donít care and donít want you to leave because I love having you there.

Later today youíll have your first taste of solid food in the form of rice cereal. Your sister was an avid grabber of our spoons and we thought sheíd enjoy it but, alas, the look of dismay on her face was heartbreaking (if comical) once she finally got some. We will record your reaction just as we did hers, so when youíre both older you will have that memory to keep. Iím hoping that youíll like it more than she did, but have learned not to expect too much this first time.

You had a cousin born yesterday; another little boy for you to play with when youíre older. Right now the difference that six months make may seem huge, but when youíre older youíll proclaim that youíre the same age and I hope youíll have the chance to be close. Your cousins all live a few hours away by car, but weíll have to make the time for you to get to know each other.

Yesterday at the gym I saw a news segment on the likelihood of biological warfare being used in North America in the next few years. Iíll be honest: it made me want to sell our house and build on some land in the country, start a garden and lay in a large supply of canned goods.

I sometimes worry about the world you will grow up in. Everything moves so fast, and a supposed heightening awareness of the need to keep our world clean and safe seems directly at odds with the pressures to consume to keep the economy going, and use options that are most convenient and time-saving, no matter what the cost is in terms of the environment. Iím betting the parents of my generation had similar qualms though, and so far things are okay. And there are signs that give me hope: for instance, just recently the United States elected their first black president, and in Canada where we live gay people can legally marry each other. I hope that the world you grow up in will be one in which youíll find it hard to believe that the colour of oneís skin or who one loves was ever a big deal, much as I find it hard to imagine women ever not having had the right to vote. I hope that your generation makes the world a better place and Iím sorry that the few generations before you left so much pollution and problems to deal with.

But this is getting a bit heavy for a missive to a six-month-old little boy, so, Biscuit, what I really want to say is what I whisper to you sometimes when we cuddle: never has there been such a well-loved little boy as you. You are amazing and adorable and, while I can wait for you to grow up, I am nevertheless looking forward to being there with you while you do. Much as the first six months have been eventful, my mind boggles at what even just the next six months will bring: solid foods, first teeth, first words, and a greater ability to move and get around (maybe crawling, maybe even cruising or walking) will be some biggies. And I, your personal papparazi, will be there, trying to capture it all.

Love,

Mumma

Cute as a button.

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