That’s what your brother calls you these days. Your brother who, I might add, is completely obsessed with you. He wakes up in the morning and asks, “Where did Mary Gracey go?” He tries his hardest to get you to play with him, and nothing thrills him more than forcefully telling you “no” when you’re doing something wrong.Wrong, you ask? Yes ma’am. Believe it or not, past your sweet appearance, you have quite the little devious nature in you. You have figured out how to climb stairs and squeeze through too-small spaces. You live for dismantling the carbon monoxide detector from the wall and you find paper oh so tasty. Baby food is so last month. Table food is where it’s at. You really love chicken, beans, blueberries, pumpkin muffins, and Baby MumMums. And if we’re up for the mess, you can hold and eat a banana all by yourself. My goal has been to nurse you until you’re one, but your interest is beginning to wane a little. This makes me a little sad, but I can hardly wait to bid auf wiedersehen to my pump indefinitely.
Girl, you are one tough cookie. Carson routinely puts you in headlocks and nails you with balls, and you hardly flinch. If I step out of the room for a split second, however, you throw a hissy fit. Separation anxiety at its finest.
Your seventh and eighth teeth are popping through. You can stand independently for a few seconds, and I think you’re probably only weeks away from walking. You love bath time but hate being changed. You are absolutely obsessed with this cheapo McDonald’s happy meal chipmunk toy that says “it’s so beautiful” in the most obnoxious voice ever. I’m tempted to toss it, but I love you too much to do that to you.
Happy 10 months, Mary Grace. I love you to pieces.