You turned eight months old. We celebrated with motrin. The teething fevers had run their course by the fifth day, but I was mindful of how little you seemed to me again, asleep in my arms like a newborn.
You turned eight months old. We celebrated with motrin. The teething fevers had run their course by the fifth day, but I was mindful of how little you seemed to me again, asleep in my arms like a newborn.
I'm Andrea. A former librarian turned SAHM, in Portland, OR. I write about life and parenthood and books for kids. And teens. Or maybe you. I won't tell.