So we’ve not been very timely with the posting lately. Sorry. But all is well. In fact, we appear to have really lucked out with Sonja, who so far has been very patient with her inexperienced parents. She’s been to the doctor lately and weighed in at 11 pounds, 6 ounces, putting her in the 90th percentile for 6-week-olds. That’s just a B, maybe a B+, and we know she can do better than that. But for a first mark, not bad.
She’s been smiling socially lately, though many times at inanimate objects. Indeed, if anyone was keeping track, probably the bookshelf or night light has received more smiles than her parents. Luckily, no one has been keeping track. We’ve been letting her have some “tummy time,” which is supposed to help her develop the muscles for holding her head up high. But she’s been getting a lot better at putting her fingers in her mouth, and once that’s accomplished she tends to loose focus on the exercises.
I’ve been told that she is beginning to look a bit like me, and I have to admit there are some parallels. She may be losing some of the bushy hair she was born with, and so now she and I both have receding hairlines. She still looks more like Winston Churchill than either of us, though. We’ve been thinking of getting her a bowler hat. No cigars, though, until her years hit double digits.
She’s also been experimenting with new vocalizations. She has a very cute little short, high-pitched cry that sounds like something a young eagle might say. It’s usually a polite warning that something louder and longer is on it’s way–sort of like a shot across the parents’ bow, warning them to change course or else.
And it is likely more my fancy that fact, but it seems she’s been getting better at non-verbal communication lately, too. Sometimes when I say something to her, she’ll lift her chin to the side a little, and suddenly find something high above my shoulder very fascinating. It makes me think we may be raising the world’s smallest teenager.