Wanderlust

Letters to the O

Thirteen Months

This month was, literally, action packed. You began with long bouts of unassisted standing and lots of toddling around the house behind the wheel of your block cart, pushing it off course into walls and tumbling over. Now, at the end of the month, you are walking across the room, struggle to balance your awkward body with every step and smiling gleefully at our encouragements. You can scramble up the stairs in the blink of an eye and often do, giggling breathlessly when you sense my imminent approach, swooping in to return you to the neutral zone where you are not in constant danger of cracking your skull open. You even accomplished the entirely predictable task of falling down the stairs, although you escaped without injury because you took the safety gate with you and rode down on top of it like it was a surfboard. Brilliant, Einstein. Absolutely brilliant. Your new thing is to lean over as if you're going to do a head stand and peer at the world upside down from between your legs. It's so damn cute I can't watch for fear I'll laugh and you'll just do it over and over until I no longer find it endearing. And that would be a shame.

Your sense of humor has really developed this month and borders on the silly, crass and ridiculous. Gee, wonder who you got THAT from? You'll join in with anyone who's laughing. Understanding the joke, it seems, is not necessary. It is also, in your opinion, quite funny to fart in the bath. Glad you're catching onto that one. You love to dance to the tune of a counting song on your learning house, which mostly involves buckling your knees over and over again and holding onto the roof of the house for support. Dad has also taught you one of the most important life skills you will ever learn- how to drum. Previously you were of the opinion that drumsticks made great teething material or fantastic projectiles.

And finally, you NEVER shut the hell up. NEVER. When you are not fawning over your pacifiers and taste testing each one, you are babbling endlessly. Your vocabulary has grown to four or five words already, including your favorite command- "Quiet, dog!" Not sure where you heard that one, but whoever taught it to you must be really serious about it because you lean over and spit out the phrase like you are hurling the words at their canine heads. When we were on a walk earlier this month, you saw a dog far off in someone else's driveway and leaned out of your stroller, pointed and shrieked "Dog!" As if to say, "I know what that four footed furry thing is. We have some of those. They're stupid dogs!" I was nearly as excited as you were.

I've finally given in and allowed you to feed yourself things that have the potential to become liquid and volatile. I supply you with utensils, secure your suction cup bowl, and simply close my eyes and hope for the best. Most of the pictures your father and I have of you this month you are plastered in food. You look like you are attempting to cover yourself in every color of the rainbow at least once. My favorite was when you rubbed yogurt into your eyes. Smart one, kid. Your Daddy also took it upon himself to give you your first haircut this month. Make no mistake about it, you were starting to look like a girl.

Just a few days ago you came down with your first cold. You were a constant river of snot, as if you were piping it in from somewhere else on the cheap. I never knew I could spend so many hours sleeping in a recliner, trying to keep you upright so you could breathe and I could doze fitfully. Every once in awhile you would reach up to stroke the side of my face, reassuring yourself that I was still there. As if I had anywhere better to be at 4 am than with you, listening to the crackle of your snores. Honestly.

Posted by Kaz at February 19, 2007 4:55 PM