Dear Andy,

I'm a day late with this nine month letter, but, as you know, life is pretty busy. You are into EVERYTHING these days, and I can barely keep up with you! I'm not complaining, of course, but I'm finding it hard to remember the days when I used to get home from work and just lay on the couch, for hours, not moving except to fill my wine glass. I won't say those were the days, because, truly, THESE are the days, but I will say that the time I have to relax is about fifteen minutes each day right before bed, and I don't know if I truly appreciated all that me- time back when I had it in spades.

Wow, sounds a little like I'm whining, huh? Let's move on to the part where mommy doesn't lay the guilt trip on her precious little monster. In the past week or two, you've become a little person. Suddenly, you are eating with gusto, picking up puffed rice and yogurt melts and (inexpertly) popping them into your mouth with a clumsy sort of confidence. All this worrying about your lack of interest in solid foods, and here you are, feeding yourself out of nowhere. I'm not entirely sure what other foods to move onto besides the cereal pieces and yogurt melts- Prime rib and an au gratin potato dish? Taffy apples?- but I suppose we can figure that out together. Eating just became fun! And messy. Messier.

We took your first trip to the park last weekend when the weather was nice, and I'm not going to say you loved it, because you didn't. It's not like you obviously hated it or anything, but you definitely had a "take it or leave it" look on your face the whole time we were there. I see you already becoming your father's son. "Can we just go home and play on the computer? Outside sucks."

Hmm, what else aside from your everyday awesomeness? Oh, we had pink eye last week. What fun! You brought it home from day care, and, sure enough, my eyes started oozing within the day. Your father's eyes were fine. At least I got a little time off work because of it- basically made the horrible, itchy, goopiness worth it. Sick day! Woot!

I'm having a hard time believing you are nine months already, nearly a year old. Babies grow much too quickly. The nice thing is that you are becoming even cuddlier as you get bigger. I know at some point the cuddliness will level off and then completely plummet, but for now I am enjoying this upward trend, the way your soft, fat arms curl around my shoulders and how you burrow your sweet little face next to my neck. It is joy, my dear Andy. Pure, amazing, incredible joy.

For your nine month birthday, yesterday, your father and I bought you a car. A used little red radio flyer vehicle that you can push around the driveway and patio this summer when you're a little bigger. We bought you the car, but, Andy, the insurance is your responsibility.

Xo.