Dearest Sophie, you are six months old today, and although I'd like to tell you that you wear a cheery smile on your sweet face all day long, the truth is, those are rare moments your Mommy captures and posts on her blog. Mostly, you sport an expression of intense puzzlement, as you try to figure out the world and the revolving figures who enter and disappear from sight without your consent or control. Strangers always comment on your big blue eyes and your furrowed brow--traits you inherited from your Father.
Having drunk nothing but breast milk for six months, you're just warming up to solid foods. You like to be held upright, no more cradling like a baby. You like it when I read books to you, and every now and then you try to turn the page along with me, although you don't yet have the motor skills to do so. You love listening to the English poetry I read you before bed; you're not so hot on Daddy's philosophy books (and who can blame you?) You're the only person on the planet who likes the sounds of your Mommy's off-key singing voice.
You like to be on the go--trips to the grocery, post-office, play dates--although you don't like getting there strapped and bound in the car seat. You loathe naps and loud noises. You love having your diaper changed, sitting outside, and remarkably going to bed at eight o'clock on the dot. But far and away, your favorite thing in the whole entire world is to go on long walks facing outward in the Baby Bjourn, tilting your head sideways, and cooing into the Kansas wind.
We love you so, Sophie-girl.
