Somewhere amidst the chaos of the past week, this one turned eight months old.
Yes, I still count her age in months. I might stop once I run out of fingers to count on, but I wouldn't bet on it.
At eight months, she is busier and grabbier than ever. It's not even remotely possible to eat while she sits in your lap, unless you wanted her to grab the spaghetti out of your mouth and smear it in your hair. In that case, carry on. While she's at it, she will pour your glass of water all over the place and steal your cheese.
Oh. Yes. This one likes cheese. A lot.
In fact, this one likes pretty much all food. Mexican is still stupid, but if want to pass her your Indian or Italian, that would be swell. Pizza is one of her main food groups, but so is yogurt, so don't accuse her of only liking junk. Unless you have chocolate cake, that is. In that case, she is willing to devote her life to junk.
Bottles are still the stupidest of all food sources.
She's sleeping slightly better, but all things are relative. "Better" just means I have completely given up on getting her to sleep without me at her side. She's in the midst of the separation anxiety phase, so she KNOWS if I walk away from her crib. It's the worst offense I could possibly commit, so her crib has become a really nice place for the cats to hide.
She'll be back. I'm confident that we're on the track to being a good sleeper.
It helps that after two solid months of ear infection after ear infection, she's finally healthy. She had a bout with whatever that stomach thing was her sister had, but it was short. Since then she has been the healthiest she's been since starting daycare (I say this as she coughs in her sleep. All things are relative.)
She now says "Mum mum mum mum mum mum" when I enter the room. She also DEFINITELY says "Lalalalala" when she's looking for Alexis. "Dadadada" is in her vocabulary as well, but it's not clear if she's saying it in association with that tall guy who can't stand to let her sit on the floor. She is forever in his arms, so I suppose he has earned the right to have a name.
Mila is a happy baby, except for when she's not. She knows what she wants and makes sure everyone around her knows as well. She's opinionated is what I'm saying, and it's really pretty fantastic.
Mila is eight months worth of fantastic.
