6 Month Check-In

Happy half-birthday, Sadie.

Anything I try to express about how fast these past months have gone or how much it blows our mind that she's as big as she is, will only come off as trite and boring. So why not go to my defacto complaining?

It used to be so much easier to put her down for a nap. Now she finds everything interesting, from the silhouette of her hand in front of her face, to the little faces on the feet of her pajama bottoms, to the toys hanging from her broken mobile that doesn't even move. It is an immobile. Yet she is fascinated by it. Not to mention her newfound ability to wiggle means that she no longer stays where you put her. Scooting backwards, that's ancient history. She mastered that weeks ago, and now prefers to sleep with her head mashed up into the corner of the crib. No, today she discovered how to use her legs to push herself around sideways in a circle, like imagine Donald O'Connor bicycling in circles while lying on the floor in "Singing in the Rain." As I type this, I can see her on the baby monitor and she's lying cross-wise with her head up against the crib bumper, playing with her nightlight with her feet.

Yet STILL no rolling. At her six-month doctor's appointment on Monday, the pediatrician listened as we explained that she doesn't roll.

"Oh, lots of babies don't like to roll back to belly. But she rolls belly to back, right?"

Um, no. She doesn't roll AT ALL.

"Oh. Really?"

That's not what you want to hear a pediatrician say. Of course, she followed it up immediately with the reassurance that Sadie will figure it out on her own time and we shouldn't worry. I'm not worried, really. She already sits up perfectly well -- today she managed a 10-second stretch before toppling over -- but Scott's a little anxious. I think he has a mental image of a 15 year old daughter who just lies on her back all day, tugging at the toys on her mobile and chewing on her pacifier. Still, the day she finally rolls for the first time will be the day we celebrate.

What else? Oh, feeding. Hoo boy. Her stats at the doctor were a little troubling: while she's in the 90th percentile for height for her age, she's only in the 25th percentile for weight. We got the instructions to begin feeding her three times a day instead of her usual one, and that has proved more of a challenge than I had anticipated. She loves oatmeal, you see, but she's highly suspicious of everything else. Her reaction to apples was as follows: *confused face* *rapid inhale* *choking sound* *saliva and apple puree all over her bib, her face and her tray* *fussing*.

But all that is nothing compared with her reaction to her sippy cup. For reasons I cannot comprehend, her sippy cup inspires only her deepest and most passionate emotions, from fascination "Wow! This thing has handles, and it dispenses water!" to utter terror "I want this thing nowhere near my face! AAAAAAAAAAGH!" Twice, a feeding session has been ruined when the sippy cup got a little too close and she burst into hysterical tears. What, I wonder, is the big deal with the sippy cup? And will I have to banish it to the cupboard so I can distract her long enough to tolerate apples?