Olivia at Seven Months

(I've asked Josh to make a guest appearance this month for Olivia's letter, as I have been incredibly busy. I don't think I could've done any better!)

Dear little Miss Olive,

Your mommy has asked me (your proud father) to write your seven-month letter.


Well, where to start. You appear to be the little drama queen (I guess it's your mother's blood in you) and have learned to grunt, coo and cry your way into getting what you want, which is typically attention or the bubba. If you can't see us, don't worry too much about it, because we can definetly hear you. You are actually training your mommy and daddy very well.


We can tell when you're sick of sitting and you let us know with your noisy outbursts that obtain some intellectual stimulation from your surroundings. You have also shown us the ability you have to roll your tongue, laugh when tickled (dad does this to you a lot), slap your hands hard against your legs which delights you with your noisy accomplishment.




Things that have changed in you that really make me feel proud are:

When I pick you up from daycare, I get the biggest smiles in the world from you the second you hear my voice, and I can tell that you just want me to come to you and hold you so you can get a good look at your daddy's face.

When you wake up in the night and are happy as a clam and never grouchy...It's hard for me to hold a grudge for waking me up with your beautiful hazel eyes batting at me with big smiles while you gulp the bubba.

Your absolute cuteness and girly features (long arms, legs and neck on a skinny long frame of a body). Which is actually starting to make me worry about when you start talking about boys.

Lastly, your attitude. I don't know where you or your sister got it, but you two have the best, brightest, most bubbly happy personalities of anyone I have ever met. I want you to stay that way always, and being your daddy, I'm going to try my hardest to keep you and your sister that way for the rest of your lives.

I love you little Miss O,

Daddy