Dear Mr. Monk,
That's it, enough is enough! You seriously have to stop growing up so quickly. This is getting ridiculous! The days are just flying by (except for the ones when you refuse to nap more than 30 minutes at a time; those days seem to last forever). I am finding it hard to fathom that you are already almost 9 months old! When did my itty bitty baby turn into a crawling, wrestling, giddy ladykiller? The flirting? I mean, you are relentless.
Your daddy is really into feeding you straight from our plates (just like Tony). So now when we are eating you bang your hands and grunt until we give you more of our food (just like Tony). It's incredible how effectively you communicate what you want given that you don't speak any words. My favorite part of feeding you is the grimace you make after the first bite of every food, like you just had a shot of tequila. You really like to keep me on my toes with the food adventures, refusing to eat things that you loved the day before, laughing and choking at most meals, spitting your mouthful of green/brown goodness all over me--perhaps we should both be wearing bibs?
Now that you are tearing around the house, you have become very good at showing us how much more we still need to babyproof. You must have some sort of sonar detector for the most dangerous thing in the room because you hone right in on it. Every. Time. Lately you really don't enjoy lying down while being changed and instead prefer to continuously roll over so that you spread your poop on as many surfaces as possible, including, but not limited to, my hands, the changing pad, the wall.
Watching you grow has been the greatest joy of my life. The only comfort to you getting bigger is that it keeps getting better.