Dear Juniper – 5 Months

Dear Juniper,

You are, this very minute, 5 months old. Isn’t that amazing?

You are the delight of our lives. You laugh and smile and cry and scream and fuss and yell and squeal and we love you every minute. You live in Canberra now, in a tiny town-house with a staircase I hate and a balcony I love. We’re settling in, your parents and your fur-sisters and you, and I wonder what you remember from the last few weeks. Do you remember all of your things disappearing into boxes? Do you remember the awful flight, when the air pressure hurt your ears and you screamed and screamed, nothing we could do to comfort you? Do you remember the hotel we lived in for nearly 3 weeks? The trip to Parliament House, the bus rides, the houses we inspected, the vegan cafes? Or do you just remember being with us, is that all you know? Our smell and touch and sound and the taste of your milkies?

You’re a very clever little thing; you’re already mobile, squirming and grunting your way to where you want to go. You often conk out before you get there though; with arms and legs flailing you squawk for your Mumma to save you. I scoop you up and tell you you’re ok, until you’re ready to start your journey again. You haven’t much interest in trying to sit up – you’re always on the move so I’m not surprised. I said weeks ago that you would crawl before you could sit.

One of your little quirks is that you like to put your thumb on things. Anything new to be investigated is met with an out-turned thumb, pressing down and twisting, your fingers grasping at nothing. You have also recently discovered your inner dolphin, not long ago your vocalisations were limited to an ‘aaaaah,’ and a ‘glllll,’ now the sounds emitting from you are wide and varied with creaks and squeals and squawks and long high pitched sighs.

Just in the last few days you’ve started to kiss us. And when I say kiss, I mean you open your mouth and slobber on our faces, trying to mimic what you see us doing to you and each other. I realise that at this age it’s not out of affection you’re doing it, merely a desire to act like the big people around you, but it’s still pretty special. Especially when combined with a chortle, a grin, and a bucketful of drool.

You have so many different smiles now, and you’re so expressive with your eyebrows. When you’re shuffling and pulling yourself around you look up every few moments, giving me a smile and a raise of your brows, a little look that says, ‘is this ok Mum?’ It is ok, but it’s also not. You were my little worm for all of 3 minutes, you’re already off trying to conquer the world.

You’ve changed a lot in the last month my little squeaky babe, I’m excited to see where the next month takes us.

Love, Mumma.