Seven too short months
Baby Bee is seven months old today. She’s more than half way to her first birthday. Time is flying by too quickly. I beg her to slow down a little bit, but she’s not inclined. She doesn’t care if she’s my last baby, she has things to do. Sisters to chase. Things to eat and touch and find.
She is the most patient of my babies. The most jovial. The least needy. She is willing to wait patiently during preschool and speech therapy and playdates and girl scout meetings. She sits on my hip and watches with wide eyes and a tiny pointy tongue.
She’s an amazing baby. Pretty and happy. She babbles. She sings. She rocks on her hands and knees and she has two tiny perfect bottom teeth. But she’s still in too much of a hurry. Growing up far too fast for the liking of a mama sentimental about her last time doing all of the little baby things.