13 months

I don’t feel all that bad that this particular update is almost 3 weeks late. Mainly because it’s not been written because you prefer that I hold you and play with you instead of type away at my computer. You don’t think that I should put down the sick snotty baby to write about the sick snotty baby, so I haven’t.

But there are so many sweet moments that I’m dying to record since you turned one and I am trying to hold them all in my head until I can get them down.

There was the day you carried the noisyguitarshapedmusicaltoythatIhate from the great grandparents into the room and started dancing to it. You don’t just bob up and down on the spot. Now you put your arms up and spin around, all the time maintaining eye contact and smiling your beautiful smile. You know you are cute and that we ought to be looking at you, only you, the entire time. Because you may do something even cuter next.

You love to empty things out and throw them all into a pile on the floor. And you are just as enthusiastic about putting things away again. You throw it into the box with great gusto and a yell of triumph each and every time.

You get really excited about things. There was the day you were walking along nodding to yourself and very busy with the important work you were doing of walking along and humming when suddenly you came to a dead stop. You stiffened, stretched your body to it’s full height, and exclaimed, “OOOHHHHH!!” You were suddenly awe stricken by the sight of trees out the bedroom window. You stood yelling your pleasure again and again, “OHH! OHHH! OHHHH!”

Then you turned to me and pointed toward the window to show me the miracle, “AHH! AHH! Psssss!” You say ssssssss for every word that has an s sound in it so I imagine you were trying to say “LOOK TREES!”

And then you stomped your feet in place very rapidly in the utmost extremity of excitement. It’s like your body is so full of rapture that you must release some of the energy into the ground again by running in place, except its not quite running but something in between.
You find such joy and wonder in everyday moments. You remind me to do the same.

Your brother and sister respond the same to you as you do to life in general. They start to yell and jump around when they see you. It’s a habit I’m trying to cure them of because it’s so very loud but you think it’s wonderful. Then you all run around the house in crazy riotous circles chasing and laughing and chasing some more.

You’ve had a cold for a while and so I’ve been cleaning snot off of your face a lot. You fight it way less than any baby I’ve ever seen. Sometimes you even come up to me making a panicked little noise as snot drips toward your lip and beg me to wipe it off. Last month after I wiped your nose you took a clean piece of tissue and started to wipe mine for me. You gently wiped up and down my face, all the while smiling and acting so proud that you could help mama. I kind of didn’t want you to stop, ever. I goofy smiled and let you wipe away while your brother and sister looked on and wondered why on earth we were doing this.

You have become your sister’s shadow. You follow her around and try to do whatever you see her doing. Often she very graciously tolerates this, but sometimes I hear her yell in frustration. She is not old enough yet to always feel complimented by the way you adore her. But you do adore her. You even sneak in to where she is sleeping if I’ve forgotten to close the door all the way and pat her face and kiss her. If one doesn’t know you are patting and kissing it feels suspiciously like smacking and head butting. She wakes up screaming and crying at the this persistent admiration that you inflict upon her.

One of the things you like to do is worm in between us while I’m combing her hair. So a few weeks ago, just before you turned 13 months I turned the comb on you instead and it came out like this. And then I let you smack me in the head with a comb for a while afterwards in order to reciprocate.

I was shocked when one night you were complaining a little bit so I said to you, “Well, come and sit down and I’ll give you something to eat.”
I was standing in the kitchen but the counter was between us and you couldn’t see anything and I didn’t point. To my utter shock you walked around into the kitchen, sat yourself down in your little chair and smiled up at me waiting for food.

You don’t stand still for anything or anyone. You just keep growing and changing and getting smarter every day. At this rate you’ll be driving and moving out of the house next year. You know, right after you learn to talk and read and write. And grow enough teeth to chew your food properly. And stop pooping in a diaper. And get tall enough to work a door knob….
Whew, we have a little bit of time left after all. Thank God for that.

(“Where can I get to from here?” She asks.)