Before Ivy was born but after we'd named her, I wondered what nicknames she might end up with. Ivy is not the most nickname-able of names. I thought I might call her "VeeVee." Westley was planning to call her "Sunflower."
Now that's she's been here a while, we've settled into calling her "Ives." Rob also calls her honey—which melts my heart into pudding—and I call her my chickadee. Or Chick-E-Dee, or chica. We also call her Ms. Ivy, which seems to suit her best of all, as she is wholly determined to grow up and get on with her life.
It kills Ivy that she can't crawl. She can do all of the motions (separately), and she can propel herself across the floor (but not in any particular direction). I'm worried that she's going to get herself wedged under the couch accidentally. Her favorite thing in the entire world is to be propped up on a yoga bolster with her knees under her. She pushes up with her arms and looks all around like a prairie dog. My goal is to capture a photo of her doing this—complete with the "ta-da!" look of glee on her face.
Just a day or two ago, Ivy learned to scream. It's not an unhappy scream or a pain-scream, but it's sharp and shrill and impossible to ignore. It's a cross between, "Hey, my voice can do this great noise!" and "Why am I not saying words yet?!"
Night before last, Ivy was unhappy on the changing table, crying, "Mmm-uh! Mmm-uh!" It sounded so much like a request for milk, and I leaned over her and said, "Let's just get your jammies on, and then you can have some milk." She beamed at me: You understand me!
I'm pretty sure this is just a coincidence—my five-month-old is not actually saying pre-words—but it's clear that she recognizes a lot of what I say to her. Especially "milk."
Ivy's favorite pass-time is watching Westley. Her second favorite pass-time is watching people eat. If I'm eating something while holding her, I have to be careful that she doesn't lunge for it. (And if she's hungry and I make her wait, she'll lunge for my chest.) She's also very interested in toys. Ivy has her own toy basket in the living room, and Westley likes to play with her toys with her—making for lots of heart-pudding moments. But Ivy's favorite toys are her own feet. I took half a million pictures of Ivy today, on her five-month birthday, and she's grabbing her feet in almost all of them.