4 months

Dear Annika,

Does it seem clichéd and obvious to open by saying that I’m amazed at how much you’ve grown and changed in just a month? Too bad. I’m going to say it anyway.

You’re 13 lbs 11 oz now, so probably sometime in the past month you hit the “twice birth weight” point. If you keep doubling your weight every 3 months or so, you’ll be nearly as big as me by your first birthday. No wonder they say babies grow up fast.

Your repertoire of vocalizations has increased substantially – from soft contented “aahhhs” sung to your bottle when you’re satiated on milk, to excited “ooh ooh ooh!” sounds whenever you see a cat, to gleefully ear-piercing shrieks and squawks. I’ve never heard any sound that’s simultaneously so much fun and so headache-inducing.

Now, instead of abhorring your tummy time, you love it, you actively engage in it – because you can now roll over. Front to back, back to front, any which way. You can also sort of pivot in place on your tummy. This started around the middle of the month, and by now you’re very nonchalant about it. “Hey, I rolled over again… gimme something to play with now that I’m taking on the world on my own terms!” In the last week you added a new trick – the skydiver pose, in which you hold your head up, and also lift your arms out to the sides and your legs off the ground so that only your belly is on the floor. Or, you can push yourself up on your arms so that your chest is off the ground; you can also lift your bottom up in the air but you can’t do both at once yet. Whenever you’re on your tummy and you see something that interests you and is out of reach, you bounce up and down and wave all four limbs as if you’re sure that just moving them around should get you where you’re going if you just try hard enough.

You’ve had lots of adventures this month. You started the month by flying across the continent to Oregon, where you met your great-grandma Lillian, your great-uncles Jerry and Gary, great-aunts Diane and Barbara, and cousins Erin, Heather, and Erika. It wasn’t the first time you saw Uncle Alex and (soon to be Aunt) Anne, but they were even more delighted with you than they were when they saw you at 2 months. You got to go for walks, and you saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time. Cannon Beach is an enviable introduction to the sea – too bad you won’t remember it. We’ll just have to take you there again. And again and again, probably. You would have liked the coast better if it hadn’t been chilly and windy, but as you will learn, those are key features of the Oregon Coast. You seemed to like the airport and airplane rides; you were fascinated by all the people and noise going through the airport, and on both flights you spent most of your time asleep, for which I was incredibly grateful. The stewardesses were amazed at what a good traveler you were.

Later in the month, you got to meet my friends Lisa and Jeff when they came to visit. We went to the Morris Arboretum, which held your attention briefly until you got too hot and tired and you HATED having to wear a hat. Later that day, we took you to visit Grandma and Grandpa Khavin to celebrate Grandpa’s 51^st birthday. You enjoyed the social scene, but the real highlight of the visit was when you got to swim in the pool for the first time (with Mom or Dad holding you, of course). You splashed and kicked like a frog; I’m guessing that you’re going to be one of those kids who can swim before you walk.

Whatever we’re eating is now of immense interest. A few days ago you succeeded in swiping a piece of French toast off of my plate. You put it in your mouth and happily sucked on it until I took it away – spoilsport that I am, I didn’t want you to gum off a piece big enough to choke on. And besides, French toast with its allergy-fraught wheat and eggs is nowhere on the list of Approved First Foods.

Another milestone – your first mishap. You managed to squirm your way out of your bouncy-chair, to fall flat on your face. Of course I came running as soon as I heard the thump, and picked you up almost before you had a chance to scream; I felt horribly guilty for not strapping you in. But you are evidently made of rubber – there wasn’t even a hint of a bruise anywhere, and in about 15 seconds you forgot that anything had happened.

The cats have learned to be wary of you, because lately you’ve developed an unhealthy interest in them. Unhealthy for them, that is. At every opportunity, you shriek at them, kick them, and grab fistfuls of their fur in an ecstasy of exploration. I just look at the cats and say “Now you know how I feel!” Because you also love to entwine your hands in my hair and hold on so I can’t put you down, not to mention grabbing my glasses, pulling on my lips, and sticking your fingers in my mouth. I have to admit that I’m not so averse to eating your fingers, though – I take advantage of every opportunity to nibble on them.

Love,

Mama