Dear Social Butterfly,
You were born two months ago today. I honestly cannot believe it’s been two months. This is strange because it feels like it was only just the other day that you made your first appearance. I feel this way because the memory of being paralyzed with emotion when you were plopped on my chest is so vivid in my mind as I write this. All the memories proceeding that exact moment feel like a lifetime ago. It’s as if I was pregnant years ago but just had you moments ago. Strange, I know. I can only hope you will have similar experiences, experiences that change not only your life, but who you are and therefore what you make of that life. Those experiences are the kind that make life worth living.
This month has been marked by the amazing way you’ve developed socially. Ever since you learned to smile at people (not just when you fell asleep or passed gas), you’ve been quite social with anyone you come in close contact with. You and I have already carried on extensive conversations about the weather, the crumbling economy, and what holiday movies we’re looking forward to the most, among other topics. Not only do you smile at me, you make various expressions and have several different grunts, coos, gurgles and murmurs that tell me you aren’t particularly favoring this seasons early cold streak, you have high hopes that the bill for another stimulus check will give the economy the boost it needs, and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button looks amazing, but The Spirit looks to be a dud.
We usually carry on several of these conversations before your father gets home from work, at which point you give him your playoff picks and opinion on which Heisman winner will win the BCS title game. You also have discussions with your cousin Elijah when he comes over, but I can only make out half of what he’s discussing with you, you two usually use your own baby language.
You aren’t particularly shy with any of the family or friends that hold you either, though I do think you’re more reserved about your opinions with those you don’t know well, judging by the fact that those conversations are a lot shorter.
You even exchanged words with that terrible doctor just before he poked and prodded you mercilessly. After that you were so angry with him you only gave him your Tomato Red Cry, something you kept up until the second he left the room. Your first breakup of sorts. Don’t worry though; he wasn’t your regular pediatrician so there isn’t likely to be any awkward post-breakup conversations with him in the future. I should warn you though, some men will mistake you’re friendliness flirting and judging by the conversation your father had with you the other day, you’re not going to be allowed to date until after graduate school.
Love,
Mommy
Meeuh 