Lucky 13

Dear JEB,

Today is your 13-month birthday, and the big news is that you can walk now! Actually it’s more like a stagger, and there are lots of forward and backward and sideways crashes. But in general you are officially bipedal now. This makes me really happy because taking you to a playground is much more fun now that you are not constantly crawling over mulch and sand, eating mulch and sand, and just generally being annoyed because the older kids can get to the slide faster than you. The taller and faster the slide, the better. The higher I push you in the swings, the better. But the best part for you is having your dad there to emulate primate behavior and otherwise entertain you. I just cannot compete with that.

Now that you are tottering around everywhere, you are much more interested in going outside, and when I say, “Do you want to go outside?” you very clearly answer by going to get your push cart and immediately running to the door. While you’re out there, you like to find leaves or rocks on the ground, and usually you hold them up for me to see. Then you say, “dat” or “urt” or “bot” and I say, “Thank you!” in this very animated voice, as if that will make you more likely to use that phrase someday. Sometimes you want me to keep the leaves or rocks, and this just steals my heart.

Usually you hear airplanes way before I do and you look up and point and wait until they come into view. Then you say, “dat” or “urt” or “bot” while pointing and scrunching down your eyebrows and I say, “Wow! Zoom! An airplane!” Then you look at me and clap. Recently your dad taught you how to kick a ball in the backyard, and while you’d still rather waylay the chickens, you do find this mildly entertaining as well.

We take lots of walks down by the lake, and when you see a dog, you begin making this very excited noise that involves breathing in and out hurriedly while making a squealing sound. If a truck or a tractor happens to pass by then you almost cannot control yourself. Sometimes when you see a State Parks truck, you say, “Dah!” and I say, that’s right, “Dad’s white truck.”

You think it’s really funny to splash in the tub. You like to hold your shampoo bottle (or any bottle, for that matter) because the cap flips up and down, and this is fascinating. Your dad won’t let you do that when he’s in charge of bathtime, but sometimes when you’re really dirty and I just want you to let me scrub the caked food out of your neck, then I let you. This always results in catastrophe … either you get soap in your mouth or you pinch your lip. The other night, while I was dutifully washing dishes, you and your dad were having a fun bathtime and all of a sudden I heard a desperate “Kiiiiiiiiiiiim!” and lots of loud banging. I ran upstairs, terrified at what I might find. And there you were, red faced and wailing, having had a brutal encounter with a bar of Irish Spring soap. Mama to the rescue! The crisis was resolved with a little cool-water eye splash, some nursing, and your blanket.

Whenever you encounter your blanket or some other such soft object, you immediately insert your right thumb into your mouth and make a very sweet noise which can only be described as a high-pitched, hummed trill. Sometimes when I'm driving and you're in the backseat, I know you are sucking your thumb when I hear this noise. This steals my heart too.

You must feel like such a big boy now that you’re no longer a “baby” and can be classified as a “toddler.” I feel like I have graduated into some new era of mommyhood. An era where watching will be replaced by chasing and where talking will be replaced by listening. Every change, every milestone, every leaf is precious. Someone reminded me the other day that we only have about 17 more years with you in the house. I know that there will be days (ok, so there already are days) when this feels like way too long, but on the whole, I know that it will pass entirely too fast and I will look back and say, “It seems like you should still be a BABY!” as all parents do. And like all parents, I will probably always like to think back, but I also like to look ahead and imagine what you’ll be like in your bright, bright future.

Happy 13 months, buddy!

Love,
Mama