eight months

little one,
today you are eight months old and so grown up,
so strong in limb and lung and spirit!

I could tell of how you chatter away like anything, especially while we read stories, and now you have begun to thumb through pages of books - though you are still more keen on the literal devouring of words...
Or perhaps talk of how you clamber about under the table, pull socks off mama's feet, chomp hands and unsuspecting knees...
I could tell of how you have begun waving with your hands, and sometimes we speak without words but through the opening and closing of our palms...
Say something of your love to chew on green beans, sliced cucumber, apple quarters, strips of beef -
Then there's that morning spoon of porridge you have with a real metal spoon, from mama's bowl, of course...
Oh, how you crawl with speed! And scale the furniture standing, and get yourself down the step into the kitchen and bathroom with a handy backwards maneuverer,
I could tell of how you play with curtains, and intently gaze at the world through the windows - especially when howling with wind or pouring with rain.
Yes, you still smile so much, at us, at kitchen utensils, market vendors, passerbys, and paw daddy's beard, and laugh excitedly when lounged in the air, and sing as you fall asleep, and cuddle in close at night...

eight months grown,
seventeen months a part of me,
and now always -
my child, so loved