three months

Dear Brooklynn, As of yesterday, you are three months old. Trust me on this one. I looked at the calendar and counted at least four times, because you do not fit in three month pajamas anymore. Yes, I understand that baby clothes are much like women’s clothing sizes (in the fact that they don’t really mean anything and can vary wildly among different brands), but when you consistently pull your clothes off of your shoulders by stretching out your legs, it’s time to upgrade.

We’ve put you in bigger pajamas and officially retired some of your oh-so-cute newborn and 0-3 month clothing, including the pink shorts that looked more like hot pants on your butt than anything. Earlier this month, your mom tried to put a head band on you that we had when you were just born and it was tight enough to leave marks in your scalp. You didn’t really care for that too much, so we don’t put it on you anymore.

Flying

So, now that you are all big and everything, we’ve started keeping track of what big girls do.

Apparently, big girls drool. Quite a bit, actually. It’s ok; you just take after you dad a little bit. You started drooling and blowing bubbles in your own saliva right along with the discovery of your hands. Remember how you used to love to suck on Dad’s finger to calm you down? It turns out you have fingers too! And when you manage to get them in your own mouth (rather than your eyes, nose, or ears), do you ever go to town. (And don’t forget the drool.)

What, Me Drool?

But it isn’t enough just to bring your hands to your mouth, because, seriously, you probably did that once in a while when you were only two months old. That’s baby stuff, right? But what if I told you that anytime we put a dress on you or lay a towel across your tummy, you grab it and bring it to your mouth?

Well, believe it, because that’s what you do.  All the time. We don’t know if you really want to chew on things or if you are just that excited to show off your baby potbelly to anyone who will look, but the second you are left alone, up comes the dress or shirt.

And it gets better. Not only do hands work to bring items to your mouth, but they can also grab objects that hang in front of your face. Objects such as your animal friends on the jungle themed play mat we bought for you or the toys that hang on the handle of your car seat. And once you grab on to something, you don’t really like to let go. It could be the washcloth in the bath, your jungle gym when we are trying to pick you up, or Mom’s hair; as far as you are concerned, holders keepers.

Eat the Towel

This month, we spent our first night away from our own cozy house since we brought you home from the hospital. We took you on a plane all the way to North Dakota (because we are at least smart enough to know that we didn’t want to drive all the way there with you in a car). It was your first time through an airport and on a plane as a real person, and apparently, air travel is pretty boring because you slept through most of the flights both there and home, a feat with your mom and I appreciate very much.

Even sleeping in strange rooms was fine, except for when we tried to put you in a bassinet that was a little too small for someone of your size and you woke up in the middle of night because you jammed your head and feet against the railings on either side.

Which leads me to a question. Seeing as how we still wrap you up to sleep at night, how do you move so much during those hours when we leave you unsupervised? Do you climb out of your blanket, dance around for a while, and then wrap yourself back up? There have been times in the morning when we have found you spun 180 degrees and moved over into a corner of your crib. We had to take all the stuffed animals, blankets, and stuff we shouldn’t have had in there in the first place out to make sure you didn’t get your face covered up while you play baby race car at night. (This is called the "Oh shit, we actually have to parent or something!" phase of baby care.)

Propped Up

Some things haven’t changed recently: you still like bath time (and your splashes keep getting bigger), you smile at us when we get you up in the morning (I’ll see if that is still true when you’re a teenager), and you really like to eat. Some things are different: you like to suck on your pacifier, you turn and look around a room when you hear Mom’s voice getting closer, and we struggle to find enough time to spend with you amidst all the other things we have to get done around the house.

Ok, that last one isn’t new. We could always use a few more minutes, or another day of staying just this size so we can remember you like this for a little bit longer. I know, there’s a huge world out there that you have to grow up and explore all too fast, but you’ll always be our baby girl.

Love, Dad