Let the official baby record state...

Adelyn sat up, unassisted, before she rolled over. She's now rolled over twice--both out of protest of being put on her back--and she spends most of her awake time sitting up like a big girl.

(And to answer the question Jason and I asked six months ago, yes. Fart noises are universally hilarious.)

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Addy laughs.

Addy laughed for the first time when she was about three and a half months old. I was waiting for it and waiting for it--this was a milestone I'd thought about from the beginning, even way back during the pregnancy. (I did not, however, fantasize about my soon-to-be adorable baby rolling over.)

The first time we got a chuckle out of her was around five in the afternoon. I'd spent most of the afternoon trying to make her laugh, because she'd been getting so close--squealing, smiling until her mouth couldn't get any wider. And then Jason walked in the door from work, looked right at her and said, "Hi, baby!" And she finally did it. Just a "ha! ha!" And I called and texted everyone I knew to tell them about it.

Since then she chuckles at least every waking hour. It's the best part of parenting so far, I think, making her laugh.

Jason's mom watched her for four days while we were on our honeymoon, and I heard all sorts of amazing stories about laughing fits--when her grandma and great grandma were scooping her poop out of the bathtub, for example. I didn't know what she considered a "laughing fit." Today I found out.

Our friends Jaclyn and Joel came over to swim with their 7-month-old Ella. Jason made us tuna salad sandwiches and we were standing in the den eating, with Adelyn sitting on my lap. Louie and Sampson were both on their hind legs, begging for a taste. We were all laughing at their antics when suddenly I heard what I thought was a weird cry, but I looked down at her face and she was laughing hysterically. She cracked up for a good three minutes while Louie and Sampson ran in circles begging for some tuna salad.

One of my old professors told me that she still remembers the first time her son laughed--it was at a blue blanket, that they'd whipped over him. She said she remembers thinking it was the most beautiful sound, her child laughing at something the rest of us wouldn't know how to find funny. A blue blanket.

For Addy it was her dogs. Begging for tuna salad.

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Anti-Tummy Time.

In the beginning I said things like, "Adelyn loves tummy time." Hilarious. Soon I realized it wasn't so much a character trait--more like she was a newborn who could fall asleep anytime, anywhere. On her tummy, on her back, on her side, on my lap, on my chest, on the floor, on a roller coaster, at a Metallica concert.

Around the one month mark tummy time became a chore around here. I knew I had to do it, to avoid the dreaded flat head and to work her arm and neck muscles. But I could only stomach it for a few minutes, until the crying started to totally unravel my nerves.

So I kind of gave up. I know, I know. I'm a terrible person. We replaced floor tummy time with sitting her up on our laps, helping her stand, letting her work out in her jumperoo. Because I do not like to listen to my baby cry, especially when I know how to make it stop. (Flip her over.)

Adelyn will be four months in a couple of days and she has yet to roll over. When I put her flat on her back, which isn't that often--I'm terrified of the possibility of that gargantuan baby helmet if her flat spot persists so I try to keep her off of it as much as possible--she has no interest in seeing what else her little body can do.

It's mostly my fault. I stopped doing tummy time as much and, therefore, she's no longer used to it. I try to do it at least once a day, and she can push herself up onto her elbows, but then the crying ensues, and I give in.

Yesterday while changing her I flipped her over on her front and--viola!--no crying. I have a new plan. Tummy time after every. single. diaper change. Except now when she decides to roll over I'm gonna have to be at the ready, because otherwise the results might be a tad bit disastrous.

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Sounds That Aren't Cries.

Addy woke up yesterday to a whole new skill. Suddenly she's realized that there's more to that mouth than eating and crying, and she's spent the last 48 hours perfecting this realization.

This makes me happy for several reasons. One, because it's nice that she's replacing some of the crying with another, less gut-wrenching, stress-inducing sound; second, because it means that maybe, just maybe, my attempts to talk to her all. the. time have resulted in a baby who will like to talk, (this also means that talking all day long to someone who can't talk back might not have been a futile activity); and, lastly, because it is freaking adorable.

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Halfway Milestone.

Adelyn can now sit-up while holding on to our hands. She's halfway there, halfway to when she can sit-up unassisted, when her flat-head hopefully starts to round out and she doesn't have to stay horizontal quite so much. From there, she goes to college.

It might not sound like such a big deal, but around here it's cause for celebration.

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