My Louis Taawanh. You are my sunshine. And my tornado…a drooly, babbling tornado.
Boy…sweet sweet boy, you have learned how to move this last month and a half. You are officially celebrating all of your 6 months and 16 days of life at 19.4 lbs , and you are officially army crawling into every nook and crevice your big brown eyes target in on. If you are not looking like a frantic seal making your way from your room to the kitchen to the bathroom, then you are cruising in your walker and ramming into cabinets, tables and chairs. You also find it worthy of your cute laugh whenever you roll over our toes or slam into our shins. My oh my, you are quite the bulldozer in that thing.
You have flown across the Pacific Ocean twice now — yay for your first time in America and getting to meet family! (More on that later.) And though for the most part you kept it together, it was made very clear when you were absolutely done with all things planes and seat belts and not moving. You’ve also gotten quite skilled at making your opinion known about when you’re hungry. And when you’re sleepy. And when you’re bored. And when you’re frustrated. And when you’re happy. And even when you want to be left alone. (I think it’s hilarious how you pull the blanket over your head for privacy.)
Much like that elusive tooth that has been slowly but surely making its way to the surface, your personality is just brimming and ready to burst onto the scene. Today there were 4 different people who saw you at different times of the day, and they all commented on how your eyes give away that “you know” things now…and that there’s a certain look of naughtiness in them. I can’t help but agree that you seem to be quite the mischievous little 6 month old. Your dad and I love it. We can’t wait. We are also tired, exasperated, expectant and thrilled during this stage.
Tonight during dinner, after you had crashed in your bed for the night, your dad prayed a sweet prayer over our family and one of thanks for what God is showing us through you. You see, we delight in you, Louis. And in that delight that we experience, we are realizing how small of a reflection that must be of what Abba feels for us. The love, protection and hope we have for you are reminders of what’s longed for in our lives. Crazy, huh? We can talk more about it all when you’re ready and wanting to hear what we’ve got to say about tenderness and grace.
It’s almost midnight. I can’t seem to stop staring at this picture of you. Your dad just walked out of your bedroom to report that you’ve rotated 180 degrees from how he left you when he put you to bed. You’re busy even in slumber, kid. Which is why I really should wrap this up, because tomorrow morning will come sooner than later. And we will need all the pep we can muster to keep up with you!