Olivia’s eight months old today.
She just figured out how to clap yesterday, and she still spends a fair amount of time babbling. She has yet to say “Dada,” but it isn’t because we aren’t trying. (She does say “Mama,” but I think it’s more in reference to need than to me specifically. Need a toy? “Mama!” Need to be picked up? “Mama!” Need a nap? “Mamamama!”)
She’s sporting six teeth (four top, two bottom) and is really mastering solid foods. I don’t think she had anything pureed all weekend–she’s self-feeding most of the time now. She’s weighing in at a healthy 21.5 pounds. Bry called her “Butterball” yesterday, and I would have scolded him had I not referred to her leg as a drumstick early in the day.
Olivia is still a very good natured baby. She takes two long naps a day, and while she wakes up once or twice every night to nurse, she goes back down very quickly. She’s working hard to keep up with Ava, and her knees are rug-burned and red from crawling. She’ll pull herself up on occasion, but I’m not really encouraging that.
Despite my pleas otherwise, she’s determined to move through this short baby phase as quickly as possible.

