How can there only be one more month to go in your baby-hood? In less than a few weeks, I will be the mom to a toddler. My mind is blown.
What I want to remember about you from past month:
- You weigh 25.5 lbs with clothes on.
- You're wearing 18-24 month clothes- I can't keep up with how fast you're growing. I leave for work and your pants fit; by the time I get home, you're ready for a flood.
- You hardly let us feed you anymore- you pretty much insist on doing it yourself. Your Papa, AKA Cleany McCleanerson, shutters with each one of your flung spoonfuls of yogurt and dropped cheese.
- You love to open and close, open and close, open and close doors and drawers. Sometimes you get mad when you're sitting in the way of the door. You haven't figured out that you only have yourself to blame.
- You've completely given up the army crawl and taken to being a super-speedy regular crawler. This is, of course, when you're actually not standing, which is hardly ever these days.
- I think you're close to walking, but maybe you'll take your time. I'd be okay with that. Really.
- You even like to stand when you're supposed to be sitting in shopping carts. Regardless of how tight I strap you in, you are a ninja and always escape. Apparently the surrounding food is just too tempting.
- You're trying to figure out what clapping is all about, but you're not too interested.
- You "talk" a lot- mostly babbling, but you also pepper in "Mama," "Dada," and "kitty" (sounds like "kkkkkeeeyyy"); you also make a hissing-like noise at Amelia and Tar. It's cute.
- You are, however, much, much more interested in books. I think your Papa is reading a book with you about natural beauty remedies in this pic:
(Bananas in your hair? For reals?)
- The two of us flew solo, Sea-Tac to Logan. 3,073 miles by myself with a little person who doesn't like to sit still:
I didn't really think about how terrifying this would be until a few days before we left. Your Papa thought I was nuts. Turns out you were pretty awesome- and just about everyone on the plane let you know it. Thank God for the extra middle seat on the way out- which I unabashedly claimed as my own- and for the sweet, generous man sitting next to us on the way home who was perfectly fine with you kicking him while you soothed yourself to sleep (another thing you do these days- usually it's just with your left leg), nawing on his extra iPhone case, and eating his cheese- he even went to far as to offer to hold you to give me a break.
- The trip to Boston was quick, but so worth it.
You spent some time with your Grampie and Kiki:
Watched two of your besties get baptized:
Got seriously loved on by some doggies:
(Finally!) Met and talked shop with Uncle Ry:
Met and hung out with Auntie Cathy, Uncle David, and Emily- they had to meet you in person to believe that a boy was acutally produced on this side of the family:
And finally, your Grampie taught you another way to clear out your snot. Take that, NoseFrida!
- You had MAJOR sleep regression for a couple of weeks. I'm talking worse than newborn-type sleeping. I didn't know if I'd survive. But I did. And I still love you a lot.
- Your top teeth popped through and you look so different. SO old.
Jack Wyatt, you are loving. You are funny. You are curious. You never sit still. You sometimes are so very, very serious. You are the sweetest part of each and every one of my days, and I love every single thing about you. I don't want you to grow up so fast, but I love watching who you're becoming. I love you, sweet boy!
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