So Eleanor is almost six months old. If she was my first child I would be counting in weeks, days, hours, and minutes, but since she's my fifth, we'll just call her six months old.
I remember thinking that Kathleen was an enormous giant that was about ready to head off to college when she was six months old. She was hardly even a baby anymore! I blinked in May and now I have a six month old baby. It's pretty shocking.
After acting the punk for her first two months she's really settled down to a happy, smiling baby who is completely relaxed about pretty much anything. I was resigned to giving up our adventure Saturdays until next year, having to work around baby naps, but Eleanor just rolls with whatever we're up to - camping, hiking, or just going to the playground with friends. I carry her around in my carrier (thank you, Laura, for that recommendation so many years ago) and she falls asleep when she gets tired and the adventure continues. When we're home she is kind enough to sleep through most (and sometimes all) of school and go to bed before I get dinner started. I don't think that I could ask for a better baby.
Every evening when it's my bedtime I feed Eleanor one last time. Then Brandon and I sit around and admire just how darn cute she is. I think that I could sit and watch her all day. I'm probably biased but I think that she might just be the cutest baby ever.
I'm not looking forward to spending four days traveling halfway across the world with a six month-old baby, especially one that has just discovered that the best cure for boredom is to make continual high-pitched baby squeals interspersed with coughing, but I'm pretty sure that we'll all make it there intact. Because, after all, nobody can stay irritated very long with a baby that is just so cute.