Michael turned eight months old this week. In the midst of a difficult year, he has been a constant source of delight. Nothing compares to the growth I’ve experienced being his mother, and nothing compares to the joy he gives me.

The intensity of his personality really shouldn’t surprise me, given we’re his parents. His joy, his focus, his frustration, his excitement: all overflow from his tiny body.

He proudly sports two bottom teeth, and the two top teeth are starting to peek through his gums. He is incredibly fast and agile, crawling everywhere and afraid of nothing. He pulls himself up on every surface he can, without concern for its stability. Like his father, he is fascinated by electronics of any type (especially cords).

He has a hearty disdain for most baby food, and has learned to spit it out with an impressive velocity. He is very determined to eat whatever we are eating whenever we are eating it. Mashed potatoes and bananas have currently risen to the top of his list of favorites.

He loves music, especially when Jake sings to him. He often likes to sing along when he hears his dad chanting in church. We have sung him the Song of St Simeon to lull him to sleep since he was born, and it remains his favorite lullaby.

Sleep remains a struggle: he doesn’t want to miss out on anything, so each nap is a battle. However, I’m sure his fighting spirit will be a force for good someday.

We love watching Michael interact with my parents. They love him so much, and he is delightfully close to them. This is the blessing of living in community: despite the sacrifices we’ve all made to make this living situation work, I’m so happy he will grow up with them as a strong presence in his life.

Happy eight months, my dear son. We love you more than words can say.