dear mia,
we call you mia because amelia rolls off the tongue less easily, although i still think your name - amelia elizabeth larson - is beautiful and suits you well. we started calling you sis when you were born to help henry understand who you were, and it stuck so quickly and so hard that we've struggled to move away from it. daddy still calls you sis sometimes and probably always will.
you are a strong sleeper, but prefer a space as dark as can be. you sleep in our bedroom, and i can hear you searching for your paci in the night. sometimes you struggle to find it, and although i wish you and i were both sound asleep i smile to myself as i walk over to you. your neck cranes up to find me in the dark, and when you know it's me you are alert and rarely settle back down without a snuggle and a short dance in the dark.
we think you are the sweetest baby sis there's ever been, and everyone loves when you're around. you are never still when you're awake. if you're standing, you're jumping. if you're sitting, you're reaching. if you're eating, your hands are moving. table food makes you especially excited, and when you see food coming you stretch your arms out until you are the letter "T", and you move your wrists around and around as if all of your excitement is wiggling through your arms and out your fingertips. you make short little bursts of sounds, like hiccuping exclamations of joy, while we sing songs about your yummy food and play peek-a-boo because we can't get enough of your bright smile.
if you are on the floor, you roll to your tummy, which is so round and too heavy for your short little arms. you are puzzled about how to lift yourself up with your arms, much less your knees. you spend a few minutes wiggling your limbs, stuck in one spot. your tummy is like a fulcrum, glued to the ground. and though you try with all your might to get your tummy to roll you to where you reach, you are like a roly-poly toy, stuck in one place with your arms and feet in the air.
your slanted eyes become thick hyphens when you laugh, and your wispy hair dances in the wind. when you are frustrated or sad, your throaty cries are echoey and persistent, your arms stretch out like branches on a tree, and your face crumples in gloom. there is no one in our house who can bear to hear you sad, and those cries are quickly soothed with daddy's goofy smile, henry's sweet songs, or snuggles from mama.
at eight months old, you are mostly quietly observing and reaching for the things you'd love to explore. i wonder about who you are behind your wide smile and gooshy cheeks. what are you thinking while henry skips past you and throws himself into a ball on the floor among his itty bitty toys and easter eggs (his newest obsession)? i wonder if you will be a boundless ball of energy and excitement like henry, or if you will be a quiet introvert with worlds of thought rolling around in your head. will you love to explore and spend summers with thick dirt beneath your fingernails or will you tell stories to your teddy bears while you serve them tea beneath a tree? i love to imagine that you will be all of these things and all of the things i couldn't possibly imagine. i imagine henry will drive you crazy and be your biggest supporter all at once. because he loves you, mia, more than you will ever know. we all do, sweetheart. and we are so proud that you are ours.
amelia and henry through the months.
amelia at 1 month, 2 months, 3 months, 4 months, 5 months, 6 months, 7 months.henry at 1 month, 2 months, 3 months, 4 months, 5 months, 6 months, 7 months, 8 months, 9 months, 10 months, 11 months, 12 months, and 13 months.
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