4(ish) Months

Dear Ally Grace,

You're 4 (okay, almost 5) months old!   I wanted to write you this letter about 3 weeks ago, but every time I tried to do it, you blew up your diaper distracted me with something really smelly adorable.  One day, when you're old my age, I want you to know just what you were like at 4(ish) months. 

(Apparently, I also want you to know that your mommy has a deep love of the strike-through.) 

Anyway, this stage is definitely my favorite so far!  You are 99% smiles and giggles, and only 1% fuss.  Thank you for being so awesome.  The best part of my day is waking you up in the morning, and seeing you smile your biggest, gummiest smile at me.  It melts my heart every. single. time.   We get you out of your swaddle (if you haven't already busted out yourself!), and you stretch REALLY big.  You are such a happy girl!

At your 4-month doctor's appointment, you weighed 12lbs and 5oz, and were 25" long.  You're still in 3-month clothing, although sometimes the length doesn't really work out for ya.  That's okay, I think you're cool with the flood look.  The dr. says you're in the 25th percentile for weight, and the 90th percentile for height.  Mommy is slightly jealous of your stats, girlfriend.  Not to mention your smooth, wrinkle-free baby skin.

(I am also slightly jealous of your Aunt Jenny's smooth, wrinkle-free skin)

Your nicknames include:  AG, Miss Grace, Girlface, Little Presh, bug, bambina, stinkle pants (you're so gonna hate me for that one day), little monster (sorry, grandmama), and probably others that I'm too embarrassed to say forgetting.  You love when people sing to you, especially your silly daddy, who likes to sing that old song, Miss Grace.  Which may or may not be slightly inappropriate when you actually listen to the words. 

You are a phenomenal sleeper.  Seriously, thank you for that.  I'll probably buy you a pony one day out of gratitude. Or, maybe just some candy.  You sleep 12 hours at night, and have been for longer than I want to say, since it might make some people hate me. 

Right now, your favorite toys are your Baby Einstein playmat (LIFESAVER, amen and hallelujah), your little pink rattle ball, and your mini-Jackson.  You're much more interested in your bouncy seat now too, and are starting to get bored with your swing.  Unfortunately. 

Here you are with one of your future boyfriends, Reid, smacking him in the head enjoying your playmat.

Don't worry, Jackson's keeping an eye on things.

You have now rolled over a grand total of 4 times.  Twice front to back, and twice back to front.  I'm not exactly sure why you aren't doing it more often, but it may or may not have something to do with mommy not giving you enough tummy time.  Which may or may not be a result of the murderous screams you inflict on me when I do. 

You also love to imitate me blowing spit bubbles, aka "blowing raspberries," aka "the Bronx cheer."  (Courtesy of wikipedia--because everything on wikipedia is true).  It's the cutest thing ever, and we have long conversations that involve just sticking our tongues out at each other.  I'm pretty sure I will end up regretting this one day, but for now, it's adorable.

You eat 5 times a day, and we'll probably start giving you some rice cereal in the next couple of weeks.  We fully plan on recording this to embarrass you for posterity.  And perhaps posting it here.  (You can thank us later for not posting any bathtub pictures.  Oh wait.)

You have made our lives infinitely more complete, and I really, truly cannot remember a time when you weren't my baby girl.  I don't even WANT to remember a time like that.  I am thankful for every moment of every day with you. 

Even the stinky and fussy ones.