I'll start with the fact that we are IN LOVE with our current Rylan. Our 23lb 11oz pack of cute-juice is 9 1/2 months old. He had a GGGGreat 9 month check-up (we got to sit in the well-child waiting room again-yay). He is rolling where he needs to go rather than crawling, though he does act like that move will get some action any day now. He has 8 teeth, prompting our new name for him: Shark Tooth. He still loves my hair, loves anyone's jewelry, baby mum mum crackers, bathtime and swimming. He is super-de-duper not a fan of getting his nose wiped, shirt changed, or Kroger (tough for him, they double coupons up to 55 cents AND have yummy samples at the deli AND Starbucks). Love love love love love some Rylan Alexander Qualls.
We are, however, realizing that Baby Rylan, as his cousins and babysitters call him, is not so much baby anymore. There is no more swaddling, no craddling, no more all-in-one pj's, the hooded bathtowels don't cover him anymore, and he's running over our feet in his walker. Where did the last nine months go?
Tomorrow we are cleaning up our garage, and our all time favorite baby item-the Bouncy Seat is getting put in the attic. Good-bye bouncey seat. You gave us many hot meals and showers. We will forever sing your Jamaican theme because we've heard it 4,755 times. Thank you for vibrating our son to sleep. Thank you for holding him at a 45 degree angle when he had RSV and mama needed to sleep little bit. Thank for being there at Christmas, at friend's house, outside while we watered plants. Rylan can bend you nearly to the ground and you no longer bounce under the weight, but God willing, we'll see you in a few years for the next one.
Showing off his tree
Shared with Zoe, she needed to take a quick business call
Found his feet
Staring at his cousin
First time in there, couldn't keep his head up
Working the 9-5
No pics please
Up to his reindeer games
It was the always handy first "toy" for Ry. I am sure I will be sad as other things get put away. But, this one is a toughy. Tear. Oh, and I won't even begin to discuss the sadness over packing away these pants.