It’s been 6 months since I wrote you this. 6 months. And in that tiny little amount of time, you have turned into a person. It’s hard for me to guess which things you’ll find interesting later in life if you’re reading this letter, and you’re moving so quickly right now that, by next week, it will all be different.
You’re adorable. Daddies are known to lack objectivity on this point, but I have it on good, impartial authority that you are an absolute delight. You smile when I come home at night, you smile when someone picks you up, you smile almost any time mommy speaks. You have learned how to splash in the bath, you shove basically everything into your mouth, and you’ve become ticklish. You are mere seconds away from learning to crawl – already getting into position but then not quite knowing what to do and faceplanting out of desperation. Sometimes you use the faceplants to drag yourself forward. You’re an odd duck. I love that.
You’re also terrifying. You don’t sit still, you roll directly for the edge of whatever surface we put you on, you bonk into stereo cabinets head first. The other day, in the bath, you managed to dump a cup full of water down your throat before I could stop you, sputtered, and for a second that lasted 3 years, you looked like you weren’t breathing. Don’t do that any more, okay?
You’ve rewritten us. Every time I see a parent with a kid, especially a dad with a daughter, I sort of nod, like we’re part of the same club now. I’ve always liked kids, but now I spot every one of them, everywhere I go, and make sure there’s a parent nearby watching them. I’ve noticed that I’ll often be swaying gently back and forth when I’m standing around, regardless of whether I’m holding you, or some groceries, or nothing at all. I’ve noticed other parents doing it, too.
I’ve taken 1,387 pictures of you since you were born, posted 76 of them publicly, and forced taxi drivers, coffee shop baristas, and every single one of my coworkers to admire them. I think that’ll probably slow down a little, if only because you’ll start to lose patience with me, but it’s hard to resist capturing every moment, especially with the speed you keep growing.
Your mom and I are very fortunate to have a lot of love in our lives. Family, friends, coworkers – there’s a lot of love to go around. But I was not ready, I was not ready for the way you would multiply that. You are a tiny, ticklish, ever-blonder force to be reckoned with, Lily, and I don’t even know how to imagine what the next 6 months will hold.