Nine months is
berry stained hands after breakfast
sluuuurp slurping your turkey soup
leftovers from your very first thanksgiving
you me and your papa sharing a lukewarm feast
the world opening up even wider,
and you deciding you’d rather practice than sleep because
hair coming in over your ears
that dimple on your right cheek
rolls upon rolls (21 pounds worth)
lot of words, chaining together sounds, but “mama” remaining your favorite.
developing into my little gourmand,
eating everything from pancakes to oysters and sardines
You entranced by your first Christmas tree,
decorated with lights you like to hold in your hand,
you flapping wildly when I come over to bring you somewhere safer.
Your whole face glowing when I spin your first little ornament.
Now outside my body as long as you were in
Even if we pretend we’re still one as you drink your fill the nestle your head against my arm and
Rest your hand on my heart.
Or as we curl around one another in the early morning hours and I pull a blanket over us.
Three quarters of the way to one. My not-so-little baby who feels this world so fully already.