Yesterday, you turned eleven months old. I’m sure in less developed countries that is nothing but a celebration, but since we are over-privileged and find things to whine about with relative ease, the day was bittersweet for Mama.
The past month has been filled with so much activity, most of it involving you racing toward an object that you will immediately shove into your mouth and me trying to make sure the object is Gideon approved. Lately that has been less likely to be the case as you have suddenly developed a sixth sense for tiny pebbles or pieces of lint that the vacuum left behind. You also have a new found love of the toilet, which I’m guessing does not mean that you will potty train soon, but more likely means that I will be calling Miss Bonnie to find out how to remove all of the things you’ve thrown in there and attempted to flush away.
In celebration of your last month of true babydom God gave us a beautiful sunny day. You’ve been pounding on the front door for a few days now and yesterday it was finally warm enough to let you go exploring in the yard. At first, I’d hoped that you would be content to push around your walking toy on the pavement, but there were leaves! and dirt! and rocks! and sticks! to be picked up, inspected, thrown, tasted or ripped apart. You were so thrilled with it all that at one point you laid down completely in the grass and attempted to hug it, face buried in the soggy earth. It was such a fabulous hippie moment and the camera was inside. Too bad.
We also went to Dada’s work yesterday and stole him away for a sack lunch at the mall where you talked up a little two year old girl who was eating Burger King. I’m guessing you were lecturing her about the dangers of all that fast food, since by that point you were finishing your banana (which you can now say when prompted) and starting in on your dried plums. She was happy to talk back and the two of you carried on some incredible baby jabbering while three parents sat their awkwardly not knowing if we should engage a conversation with each other. Babies, while less socially aware, are much better at being socially secure. Good job, babies!
You’ve brought back blowing kisses at the end of this month and I am so glad. The entire car ride to Dada’s office was filled with your little lip smacks from the back seat and as soon as I’d reciprocate, another one was flying through the air. Those little smacks make me so insanely happy.
Since this month is building toward your one year birthday party that means Mama is going to have to plan a party for you. She is both glad to do it (for your sake) and anxious about what all of those ponies are going to do to the lawn. Grandma Linda sent down some cake pans and Mama is going to use one of them to make you a special cake. I’ve never decorated a fancy cake before, so if the cake you have in the pictures look suspiciously like something you saw at The Cake Gallery, just remember that Mama’s love doesn’t have to be homemade.
I’m a little sad that all of your babyness is being slowly swept away. You are growing into one strong willed independent little boy and that’s not entirely a bad thing. In the meantime, though, I am hanging on to any shred of baby that is left, like the way you bring your little hands up to your eyes and forehead while you are having your last virgin white russian just before bed and the way you snuggle into my neck when you don’t feel very well. I’m pretty sure that big boys like to snuggle too, so let’s not let that one go just yet.
