8 months

This past month has been a big one.

The crawling has certainly put a new spin on things. We had an incident with a gum wrapper that made me crawl around on my hands and knees for a full hour, searching, searching.
I obsess over errant plastic bags, bobby pins, cords, dog kibble- you name it, and Stone will find it and shove it in his mouth faster than you can say "Heimlich".

Stone is eating pretty well, now. He has moved past his orange stage (so 7 months...). Now we've reached the dawning of the age of yogurt.
Yogurt with garlic, yogurt with banana, yogurt with dill.
I am happy because he likes the plain kind (no other options have been offered), and it is white. And anyone who knows me knows that nothing is more important than keeping my whites whiter and my colors brighter. Ha.

Stone is a charmer. He flirts flirts flirts. He loves to smile. People always comment on how happy he is. This is a welcome change from how things were in the beginning. Garin and I are so proud, because if he is happy we must be doing pretty okay. We constantly tell eachother how great we're doing, but we are biased and it's nice to have proof.

The coolest part is that, when I think of my son now, I feel a love that is rooted in logic.
I no longer have to ride the tide of biology, instinct, that mama-bear love that got me through the first few months. That wave is still there, I just have other vehicles, now.

I love Stone because of who he is.

I love his sense of humor, his sneaky grin, his kisses, his cuddles, his double-fisted sleepy eye rub. I love the way he sings along to folk music, and cries when I turn it off (my son! my son!). I love how he looks just like my brother, and just like me, and just like his Papa all at once.

Love songs have new meaning, now.