How we grew

You can roll. Both ways. And super-fast!

I can roll out of bed to feed you and fall back to sleep in seconds, without hitting on any furniture.


Your hair is longer and thicker and that bald spot on the back of your head is barely visible.

My hair is short again, after a year, because as much as I enjoy you grabbing it, all that shedding made me sad.


Your eyes are still blue! And it would be awesome if they stayed that way, ’cause you look pretty cool with your blue eyes (I am sure you would look cool with whatever color, though).

My eyes are still brown, but the dark circles under them have faded a little, since you sleep somewhat longer these days.


You can crawl. You go on all fours and then manage to move forward. Not in the most smooth and coordinated way, but you do.

Some days I almost crawl. You are getting heavier and heavier and I have still not figured out how to protect my back.


You eat solids. You grab the spoon and throw food everywhere and when I feed you, you open your mouth sooo wide and are equally excited with pumpkin and broccoli.

I eat your leftover solids. I am pretty sure that my 6-year old picky eater self would be totally disgusted by the things I devour these days.


You don’t spit up your milk any more!

I still have to do laundry as often as before though, because now you soil your clothes enthusiastically with food.


Your personality has started to shine and I love every bit of it: the loud laughter, the disproving looks and all the prima donna drama.

My personality is the same. But you help me keep my dark sides under control. I try to be patient, calm and confident, for your sake. And it does me good.


You sleep on your own bed. And you seem to really enjoy it. My independent sleep-crawler (as in “sleep-walker).

I sleep in my own bed. Obviously. But some days, at the crack of dawn, I kidnap you and bring you to our bed, so that I can sniff your milky breath and feel your hair tickle my nose.


You can stay for half an hour in the swimming pool, making happy screeching noises. That’s double the time you would “swim” a month ago.

I manage to drag myself to the swimming pool (almost) every Sunday morning, to see you laugh and splash around, despite the fact that I hate sports. You make me a better person.


You love to bite my nose and tug on my ears and give me slobbery kisses with your mouth wide open. You also caress my cheeks some times and laugh with my ridiculous jokes (aka stupid noises).

I would let you bite off my whole nose, just to see that naughty look on your eyes and the loud laughter that comes afterwards. You matter to me more than myself does and that is an incredible feeling.


You bang your head on the floor sometimes during your adventurous explorations. You get scared and cry, despite the fact that most of our floor surface is padded with carpets and blankets and play mats. But then you get up and start trying again to conquer whatever milestone you are after.

I want to bang my head on the floor sometimes and cry because I get scared when I realize that this constant worry about you is never going to go away. But then I collect myself and remember that the wonder is worth the worry.


You start to like me now. I can tell.

I love you now. More than words can describe.


Loulou Maya and a non-hip hippie

Loulou Maya and a non-hip hippie

2 responses to “How we grew

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