Five

I have a bad habit of referring to five as an even number. I know it's not. But in our base-10 numeral system, it feels like a nice even position. Halfway to something. Not too small, not too big. Not too young or old or early or late. (It's also my birth date — another reason to look forward to five).

So Miss M is five months old today. And I know I just said five is not too old. But it feels like it! Especially when I see pictures of friends' newborns on Facebook. So wrinkly and uncoordinated with skinny limbs. Miss M is still pretty uncoordinated. But her newborn wrinkles have been replaced by fat dimples. Her skinny limbs have become sturdy. And her movements, while clumsy, are beginning to show purpose. She cackles when I kiss her belly. She kicks when I change her diaper. And she is thisclose to rolling over. She has doubled her weight and grown five inches since birth. Her facial expressions range from concerned to gleeful to exasperated.

I guess, technically, she's still an infant, but I can already see the big girl in her.