In the Pudding Club: Dixeme mois avec Mademoiselle Eloise

Eloise -

This past month you are on the cusp of so many things. You say ‘yeah’ and ‘hi’ and ‘mama’ and ‘dada’ but not yet on purpose. I can see the little cogs in your brain trying to make the connection to this milk jug woman who keeps referring to herself as Mama and the Mamamaaamaaamaaa sound that comes out of your mouth.

You’re thinking about crawling, but not yet convinced it’s necessary. You can scoot backwards, roll this way and that, pull yourself around on whatever clutter is lying around the house (you’re welcome) – so basically you can get to where you need to be without the crawling.

Tooth number 3 reared its ugly head the other week and you were not a happy bunny.
It’s your first top tooth, second or third next to the middle. The same tooth on the left side is almost about to break the skin, so you’ll be rocking the fang look soon. Which will suit you perfectly because you’ve turned into a rabid animal. When I attempt to put you to bed you often try and eat my face, gnawing on my chin or sucking my entire cheek into your mouth. It’s like you’re trying to consume me. And I tell you kid, as much I want you to go to sleep, it’s really hard not to laugh when you press your little face next to mine, your eyes and mouth wide open trying to get whatever piece of me you can.

I love how we’re able to joke around with you. Your sense of humor is expanding every day. Daddy wearing one of your hats, Daddy making your stuffed dog attack you, Mama playing hide and seek behind the drying laundry – even your little baby friends make you laugh with their silly noises and movements.

When your teeth aren’t bothering you, you are an absolute delight to be with. You laugh and clap and wave and dance. I have to fight the urge to constantly cup you little face in my hands, squish your cheeks together and smother you with kisses. When your teeth are bothering you though, you sit and scrunch up your face and complain and grizzle – giving me a great glimpse of the surly teenager you will become.

You got personality kid. When you’re not happy you let us know. You know what you like and you’re not afraid to do what it takes to get it. And I might be eating my words when this determined personality meets puberty, but I couldn’t be happier at the opinionated little madame you are turning into.