Mama!

Hello, my dearest decidedly non-imaginary baby, who powered through a rough last three days of Leap 5 and burst out the other side reliably sitting up without toppling over, kicking his little baby feet in his sleep, sporting a round Buddha tummy, and also - most heartwarming for me - saying "Mama." For real.

It continues unseasonably cold and rainy. I think since we fled home there have only been two days without a small craft advisory in the weather, which is neither here nor there when landbound, but I still pay attention to it. We have gotten foam baby flooring, and turned the living room into a play spot for you which you seem to enjoy. Bright colored foam blocks are both nice for teething upon and also your mother finds them relaxing to play with while hanging out with you on the floor.

I have little else to report, beyond continuing to try to expose you to other people via video chats, and there is a constant stream of laundry, and some day I really hope the painting will be done so we can begin to put the house in order. You want to stand up SO BAD. You were very angry at me today when I wouldn't let you put a used Kleenex in your mouth. It's the first time I heard a "mama!" that involved objection, if by strong implication rather than context. You have started to try to stand up in your high chair. But after several weeks of progress you have retreated from wanting to eat solids in the morning. You love nursing, but you get hungry. Like me, you often wait too long to eat, and then don't know why your stomach hurts and you are grumpy.

Your obsession with the dog continues unabated, and the dog himself has gradually begun to unbend in his attitude towards you, which I find charming. He has been observed licking you hello.

You are so big that my arms are always tired, and your dad grunts with effort picking you up.

I am supposed to be working on my book today but, as usual, I am preoccupied with you.

And that is where things stand on this, our sixth (eighth?) week of quarantine.