Well, Tess, you're almost a year old now, and you're giving us something new just about every day. New sounds, new behaviors, new gestures, new colds. The last one was a doozy, a weapons-grade bug that lingered for 12 days. More than ever, we wished you had language so you could understand this simple request: honey, please, let us wipe your nose! It's just a tissue, soft and helpful. Stop turning your head and relax.
But our pleas are just sounds to you and they're not communicating quite yet. You'd much rather be in control and drag your face across my shoulder. At first it was a big "Oh, no!" But by the ninth time it's just another smear on a shirt. One day you might get a kick out of knowing how I walked through the grocery store having forgotten about my snot-mottled, black sweater. I didn't remember until checkout.
Another thing we wish we could talk to you about is this pain infliction thing you've been into lately. Those cute hands of yours are like little vice grips, and their strength is shocking. We checked our baby manual, but nowhere does it state, "At this stage, your baby will giggle as she tries to gouge your eyes out." Before, you were satisfied to grab my upper lip and twist, or head-butt mommy's nose, but the eye-gouging had us a little concerned and we're happy to speak of it in the past tense. May the next byproduct of your budding curiosity be a little easier on us.