Dear Binja:

I always start out these letters by some exclamation at the realization of just how old you are because, HOLY CRAP!, you keep getting older every thirty days.  And while there are some months where the thirty days fly by, there are some months — like this one — that are so challenging and awesome in every way that the month seems to linger.

For. ev. er.

But yes, I am still amazed that you are already (and yet only!) eight months old.  Let’s face it: you’ve already got some pimp skillz to be admired.  You have spent the greater part of this month at rehearsals with me for a local production of Annie that starred your favorite aunt:

And while you were there, a gang of 12 or so orphans would come and abscond with you.  You would happily disappear for a couple of hours, till one of them would come roll you back and say, “He’s wet.”  You may charm them, dear, but not enough.

This month, we all were sick.  For most of it.  You tend to show your illness like your mommy; it’s all in your eyes.

You being sick is one thing.  Both of us being sick is quite another.  And there were three or four days where you and I stayed home and just took turns being irate at eachother.  Because much like your eyes, I think you also get your mother’s temperment.  God help you.

But even when we were fighting, you were still quite precious.  Like when Aunt Delle and Uncle John brought cousin Matthew to visit, you were completely obsessed with that baby.

And you were very patient with all of the other children around you.  Especially your father.

Your appetite grew this month, expanding into solid foods.  Well, some solid foods.  And some solid things that are NOT food:

And you also started bathing in the “big boy bathtub”.  Which both broke our hearts and elated them, because MAN, that is SO MUCH MORE FUN than the itty bitty blue tub.  FOR YOU.

There is a song in Annie that the cast, in general, dispises.  Our gentleman playing Daddy Warbucks has the voice of an angel, but it’s clearly a song that was added after the original show came out.  And for the most part, the cast doesn’t understand it.

But I do.

Some of the lyrics are:

Why should I change a thing?
Got the world on a string.
Who needs the clamor that a little girl would bring?
Why redo the bedrooms?
Undo vacations?
Learn to love cornflakes?
Why change a blessed thing?

Because.  If you’re incredibly lucky, you get this:

And this:

And this:

And this: (yes, even though it gives you a turkey neck and you know how unattractive you are in the picture, but LOOK AT HOW CUTE WITH THE ARM AND EVERYTHING.)

Binja, you made it all worthwhile.  You do every single day.  Try not to grow up a whole lot during the next thirty days, okay?

Dear Binja:

This month was an interesting one.  It was filled with both “OHMYBABYISSOGROWNUP!” and “Do the gypsies pick up the naughty children on the same schedule as garbage pick-up?”.  Because while you have your moments that are just so cute and enough to melt my little Grinch heart, you still have moments where I fear your head will suddenly spin around and green pea soup will fly out of your mouth.  Why do you do that, child?  Your father is the Gemini, not you.

You are constantly surprising us with your suddenly ability to do stuff.  For instance, your father and I have gotten comfortable with the use of the infant tub.  You splash, we get wet, and everyone’s happy.  Right?  WRONG.  You decided, about two weeks ago, that you were DONE with this rudimentary bathing contraption.  And so?  You hiked your bare arse up in the air and threw a leg over.  We just watched, mortified.  WHO IS THIS MUTANT CHILD?

Because you are my child, you have defied all physical odds of how large a child can be at such a young age.  At your 6 month check up, you weighed in at 19 lbs, 4 oz (which, honestly, less than I anticipated.. I guesstimated somewhere between 20 and eleventy million lbs).  You were in the 98% percentile for height, the 80% percentile for weight, and your head..?  95% percentile.  My nu-nu will never be the same again.

And although you constantly flirt with passersby when we’re out, occassionally, we get that same royal treatment.  And it holds us over when we have internal hernias from carrying your very large ass around.

(You, apparently, only have one outfit anymore.  But it is so fitting on you.)

Finally, my dear Binja, I have to commend your ability to realize that you are wearing on thin ice.  Yesterday.. this past weekend.. well, the last week.. you have been a total nightmare.  We’ve blamed it on everything under the sun.. teething, ear infections, tummy aches.. but nothing ever pans out.  You’re just being difficult, because you know both your daddy and your.. aunt are difficult. (Your mother is perfect.  And humble.) And yesterday, when we had reached our breaking point because you WOULD NOT TAKE A NAP NO YOU WON’T OH NO OH NO OH NO WAAAHHHHHHH, you finally just fell over on to your daddy’s chest, and there you were the cutest thing that deserves to be embroidered on a pillow, or at the very least, painted by Thomas Kinkade or made into one of those “Love Is..” cartoons..

And that, my child, is why we keep you.

Binja:

HOLY CRAP.  Six months?  Seriously?!  Where did the time go?

Let’s recap.  This is when you came home:

And now, SIX MONTHS LATER:

I KNOW, RIGHT?!  When did you get so damn big?!

I’m not gonna lie, little Binja.. there were many times this past month when it was very hard to like you.  I loved you nonstop, don’t get me wrong, but you went through several growth spurts and a nasty sinus infection that made you not so likeable.  Oh, sure, you’d put on that fliratious grin whenever the ladies were around, but the minute it was just us, BOOM! the angry Binja would surface.

Of course, this last week, you’ve been back to your jovial self and I remembered why I pushed you out of my nu-nu.

I know that this month hasn’t been easy on you, either.  Your mom has been hella stressed, with a new job and a new house thrown at her in a two week time frame.  As always, you were as laid back as you could be. (Except when you were Satanic Binja.  Which was often.  Have I mentioned that yet?)

 You also slept a lot this month.  I know that sounds like a stupid thing to say, but dude, seriously.  I have about a dozen pictures that all look like this:

And I thought it was just me, that I was so boring to you that you found the alternative of sleep so irrestible, but then daycare handed me a picture of you sleeping.. while standing up in your freaking exersaucer.  I don’t think it’s a regular occurance, Binja, that they take pictures of the children.  They made a special exception for you.  Because you are special.  Slacker baby.

This month has been very cool in one aspect: your mind is going ninety-to-nothing.  I can ALWAYS see wheels turning in your head, as you struggle to master things that I take advantage of daily.  Lately, your unfulfilled conquest is putting your pacifier successfully in your mouth.  8 out of 10 times, you don’t make it, but that one time?  OH, so worth it.

For all my whining, child, understand that I love you more than my luggage.  Every morning, when I give your first bottle and you’ll lean into me and cuddle under my chin.. man, that’s better than crack. (I hear.) And your overwhelming happiness spreads to everyone around you, so please don’t let me drown your spirit.  You are, by far, the single most amazing thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I feel so incredibly blessed to have you.

Even when you’re being horrible.