Iris is six months old today. A whole half of a year has passed by- and I have loved every moment...and try to hold on to this time as tightly as I possibly can.
Clothes that seemed so impossibly large just a few months ago, now are too snug to fit over or around- to tight to snap, or to squeeze a head through. (I mean look at those fantastic chubby chubby legs....)
We would go to any length to hear her laugh. To make her laugh. Repeatedly. We don't care how ridiculous we look, or sound, or try to be- if we can just get her to gurgle out a string giggles, we will do whatever it was, again and again and again and....
And here we are, right before her first Christmas. Still being a wee bit young to know what is going on, there are a few things I do wish for her right now. I hope she inherited the gene that keeps her a child inside, just like her parents. I hope she knows how much her Santa Claus will always love her.
And I hope she always believes in magic and wonder.... Always.