The Wee One is nine months old now, and it’s such a charming age. Nine months is the age at which babies become the archetypical baby — gurgling with goo-goos and ma-mas, crawling around with chubby thighs and a wiggling bottom, clapping their hands and giving a big smile when you enter the room. The best part is the way she’s just discovering what a great place the world is, and as such, has so much enthusiasm for every little thing that happens during the day.

“Sweet potatoes for dinner! I love these! So delicious! Mmmmm!”

“My bear! I love him! So cuddly! I want to give him a big hug!”

“There are ducks! In my bath! They kissed my belly! Hee hee!”

“Look at me swinging! So high! So! Much! Fun!”

By the end of the day we’re both exhausted from all that joy.

I’m trying to enjoy these days as much as possible because I know it’s the last time we’ll have a delightful 9-month-old baby of our own around the house. The great weather combined with the sunshine of the Wee One’s ever-present smile is really helping to make this spring a happy time, indeed. I guess I’m kind of wistful about the Wee One growing up, but truthfully I’m looking foward to it a little bit, too. I’m tired of nursing — I’ve had a couple of infections lately that are making it rather uncomfortable — and really looking forward to her sleeping through the night, which for my other two, came hand-in-hand with weaning. Later this summer she’ll be toddling around a little more and better able to play in the sand at the park (without eating too much) and to ride in the wagon with Gal Smiley (which will widen our circle of travels).

Still…nine months is awfully delightful. I’ll try to focus a little more on the now.