12 months

Dear B-

Well, you've been 12 months for about 2 weeks, so i guess it's sticking. I just saw a picture of you from yesterday, Easter. You are sitting in a highchair at brunch and looking up and you don't look like a baby - at all (well, except for the highchair). You look like a little boy. Whose mother has never taught him any table manners. And then last night, you walked into the kitchen, and I saw you in the corner of my eye. Hmm - my boy walking. Guess that's normal. Wait - what?

When did this happen? A walking, nuh-nuh-nuh braying toddler, who climbs stairs and tackles play equipment and loves loves loves to be outside? Well, this month I guess.

Me and you are going to have quite a week - I'm doing the single parent thing, so, sorry, kid, I'm all you've got. I love watching you and your dad together. You've just starting really craving him, even when I'm in the room. He makes you laugh and laugh, throwing up and down, carrying you on his shoulders, tickling you.

But no offense to the papa, what you really love? What makes you laugh harder than anything, ever? Torturing my friend's cats. You chased them, stuck your head into their cubbyhole, and then - just becasue you could - crushed their playzone with your body, leaving them trapped between the wall and - your face. Yes, God loves you B. Or else those cats would have come to their senses and acted like normal cats and blinded you. You laughed like a crazy man.

You were creatively bad for the first time this month - you kicked it up a notch from the screaming or the scampering away as I (attempt to) change your diaper. You wanted the yougurt on the table. I said no and put you down on the floor. And two minutes later you have rolled your walker/truck over to the table and are standing on top of it, smearing yougurt all over your face. I guess I should have said no again, but I was kind of proud of you.

You are not cautious, though you approach your insanity with a serious deliberativeness. Sometimes you are shy, but it's so rare it always surprises me. You are more likely to have scurried down the hall and be flinging yourself off a piece of furniture, some rotting piece of food from the floor in your mouth, in hot pursuit of a scared cat. So we watch you pretty carefully. And try not to laugh too much.

So - not so much a baby any more. But who needs babies when I've got someone as cool as you?

Love-

your mudder