7 Months with our Squee Squoo

Day 826,382,654 and 1/2.

We’ve all three been sick for years at this point with no end in site. Though the captain of this ship is only 7 months today, I can’t recall the faint smell of clean air through clear nostrils, the void of coughs in the wee hours, or the time we had a full cabinet of NyQuil before the supply drained. Eye, tis been a plague for the ages.

But today, on her Marmar’s birthday, we still celebrate that she is 7 months old. This month Rainie took her father to dad boot camp, the same program he learned to daddy before she was born, to teach a room full of sweet, naive fathers-to-be what this whole have a baby thing is really about. They learned how a baby intricately smushes avocado up her nose for maximum discomfort, the strong scent of shart, the visual chaos as it seeps through a onesie, and how projectile spit up flies like a white blobby missile through the air and loudly splats on impact. They left better men because of my girl.

She still loves daycare and gets giddy when we walk into her classroom. She scours the vicinity for the most action packed corner and points me to where I can drop her off to roll around and babbles with friends, whilst also successfully swapping a heft dose of germs in the transaction. But don't worry, if a friend isn't nearby to give them disease, these 11-20 pound nuggets find a mucus crusted surface to lick. After years of living in the heart of this room packed with baby bacteria and resisting the army of germs shot at them on the daily, I am convinced her teachers are radioactive.

The demand for attention continues to grow and I suspect this will be one of my last times saying that as we can all just know she’d like you to look at her, okay? She’s adorable in her little holiday outfits, terribly spoiled by her grandma, and absorbing every inch of her father with those crabby claw fingies.

We’ve been homebodies lately, outside of a nice Thanksgiving with friends and family in Winter Park. Know our extroversion is bursting at the seams and we hope to be a little more sociable soon. If only we could become radioactive ourselves.

Rainie, we love you so much and know one day we will even miss your snotty, coughy giggles.