Miss Beada turned four months on the fourth of August.
If she knew how tardy this update is, she would most assuredly growl at me. She’s a most accomplished growler, brazenly grumbling at her hands (invariably clenched during this exercise) or at her feet (she’s just realized they’re down there) or at the doctor at her four-month checkup (“Is she growling??” The doctor asked, and I nodded.) I am not sure why she does it. It is probably because she can.
I went to get her up from a nap a few days ago to find her staring at her left foot, which was raised and immobile above her blanket. The look she gave me when she noticed me was one of mild bemusement. What in the world is THAT? Maybe that’s why she growls.
Because she is now four months old, life has brought a swift dismantling of the good sleep habits we’ve cultivated–the four month sleep regression. Because she is my sixth, I’ve decided to not care about said regression as everything will be put back to normal over the course of the next month. Just this week we’ve had a growth spurt, said regression (which began before the growth spurt) plus a little round of sickness just for fun, and at the end of it all she’s decided that she actually likes being rocked to sleep after nearly four months of mostly fighting it (and for the record I don’t mind that bit, but I would like to go back to only waking once at night instead of three times or so.) Fortunately, now that the growth spurt is over, she is back to waking up smiling instead of waking up hangry.
In addition to growling, Beatrice also likes to coo, sing, and make the sound the ROUS makes when Westley stabs in to death in The Princess Bride. I’m not sure what it is about that last sound that makes it a favorite, but I usually rush to her when she begins making it only to discover, without fail, that’s she’s not actually in distress but only contemplating her hands or the toys on her baby gym.
When she actually is upset she tends to cough angrily, but unfortunately she does so with such a force that she toots at the same time, which spoils the effect somewhat.
Her eyes are still hovering somewhere between Almost-Blue and Almost-Not-Blue, and the hair growing back in her bald spots is brown and wiry.
I have tried–unsuccessfully–to tame her ears. Well, “tame” is the wrong word. But they stick out quite a bit and have the unfortunate habit of rolling up into a little ear burrito whenever she moves her head to the side, or if I’m holding her, whichever ear is against my arm always folds over on itself and it seems very uncomfortable. I have tried to remedy this by putting headbands over her ears to hold them back, but all she does is reach up and push it back so her ears stick out of it more than ever. So I officially give up, but this is my evidence, Beatrice, that I did try to do something–! I don’t mind if you don’t.
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