Just three more short months till you are one! This month has seen some rapid transformation, and we feel that you are hardly baby anymore, all boy. You even have a new smile in your arsenal, one that says “I am smiling now,” instead of just “I’m happy.” Anything is funny if it’s preceded by “One…Two….THREE!” And your favorite game lately is a lively horsey ride to the tune of William Tell. So cliché and yet it works every time.
You do crazy things with your hands. You grasp and ungrasp them. You bang on everything. You bang any two objects together. You’ve learned to clap much to your amusement, and today in the airplane you learned the sign for “More!” as Daddy fed you Cheerios. Day after day we’ve persisted in showing you our fingertips tapped together as we inquire “More please?” And finally you responded, clapping your little baby hands. I’m not sure what I find more amazing: that you learned a precise form of communication or that you understand what’s coming out of our mouths when we say “More please?” You have a crazy-amazing brain.
You talk all the time and it’s Bluh-bluh or Dah-ee-dah-ee all day long. Unless you’re eating and then it’s an urgent and irritated “MMMMMMM” after every spoonful, before you even swallow. Hopefully “More please” is here to replace that.
You’re discovering that Mommy’s food is ALWAYS better and the height of your culinary experiences thusfar have been the pizza that I wanted to have all to myself last week and the mashed potatoes and key lime pie at the 4-star restaurant last night. You sophisticated little devil. You can inhale a rice cake, a whole banana, a quarter of an avocado and a generous serving of cottage cheese and still “MMM” for more of whatever we’re having until we get up to leave a restaurant. Recently this has included refried beans, spaghetti & meatballs, and croutons. All this with no teeth.
Recent things we’ve seen you do: Rub your open mouth back and forth over any available surface. (This has included my face, your fist, or the closest upholstered chair.) Clap your palm over your mouth in rhythm while singing. Flush the toilet. Attempt to crawl a vertical surface. Claw my skin or stick your hand in any available mouth. Crawl away as fast as you can, giggling, mid-diaper-change. Sit on the bathroom floor and bang your head against the tub. (This is not the only time we’ve observed you banging your head in rhythm. You are just like your daddy and my daddy.) Two words: You’re nuts.
We’ve been traveling for a week now and still have more than a week to go. You are a trooper. You smile your camera smile at every stranger and they love you to death. You put your little head down on my chest and sleep in the plane when you’re tired. You are beyond tired and we are not honoring your sleep needs at all. You fell asleep in the car this afternoon just as we were parking to go visit someone. You slept all of 2 minutes and then it was over.
This fatigue, combined with the fact that your smart little mind is figuring out that you have the option of being dissatisfied with situations inflicted on you, and you are learning to be very grouchy in the car. Your wise daddy says he’s been learning to dismiss the criticisms he feels of you because they won’t do any good. Neither would “Oh, he’s tired.” The only reason to say that is because we feel like you’re making us look bad. Big deal. So we are working on bearing with your weakness and remembering you are dust instead of trying to fix you or shush you when you come unglued. But Wow Can You Scream.