NINE

Months, that is. 

It's true.  She really is 9 months old.  I'm not exactly sure how that happened.

I've been doing "photoshoots" of Hannah every month.  Partly for practice, partly to have the pictures of her.

This is why she doesn't wear headbands anymore.  It's a crying shame, but it's for the best.  You can imagine what happens next if I don't intervene.  WHACK!

 

At her check up this week she measured 28 inches (70th percentile) and weighed a whopping 15 pounds, 8 ounces.  That's only in the 5th percentile and she hasn't even doubled her birthweight.  Doc says it's not a problem and that she's more concerned when babies are overweight since childhood obesity is so prevalent.  To Hannah's credit, she's a good solid food eater, and is loving finger foods and table food these days.  However, with her big brother and sisters around causing all sorts of hullabaloo, I often find myself trying to convince her that nursing is good for her and that she can watch the kids when she's done.

She's not crawling yet, and won't spend more than a second on her tummy exept for when she's asleep (yep, she's converted to a tummy sleeper).  But, like I told the doc, I'm perfectly okay with the fact that crawling has yet to come.  It'll come soon enough, and until then, my life is blissfully easier while she's stationary.

She's just about to get two bottom teeth, her first.  She's been unusually grumpy lately, and I'm attributing it to teething.

She's a happy, smiley, ticklish, giggly baby.  Unless I hand her over to someone she doesn't know.  Then all heck breaks loose and she screams bloody murder.  Screams like she's getting 15 shots - at the same time.  It's fun.

I took these when she turned 8 months.  She's pretty dang cute if you ask me.