Here we are. Countdown to one year. I know a lot of people like to say with babies that the time flies. But I feel like it’s been a lifetime. Meaning I don’t remember a time when I didn’t get to look daily at your round, cherubic, humongously smiling with two teeth poking up face. Or more accurately, I can remember that time but it’s a different lifetime. This one is better.
You’re at a very interesting age to me. In some ways, I have been thinking of you as like a human version of the Bosphorus running through Istanbul. (Stay with me here.) Are you part of Europe or are you part of Asia?
Are you a baby or are you a toddler?
In so many ways, you are clinging fiercely to babyhood. Almost a year and you are still not crawling. No one, anywhere, has witnessed even one attempt. You get around alright, scooting on your backside and generally contorting and flinging your body in different positions and directions to ultimately get access to whatever toy or off-limits item has caught your eye. As for walking-we’re not even in the same solar system. There is no indication that you have even a shred of desire to pull yourself up.
I couldn’t be happier. Sure I have that momentary seizure of panic when I read an authoritative source that says developmentally every single baby on planet Earth is crawling by now. They list each age and milestones by likelihood. So for your age group it’s like Every baby = crawling, Some babies = walking, A few babies = running sprints. But then this past weekend we went to a birthday party and there were approximately 25 children of all ages, including small babies, running around the play area, climbing under the furniture, pulling dishes off tables and sticking sharp objects in their eyes. There were 50 adults running around the room like crazed shells of their former selves, eyes darting this way and that, emaciated from forgetting meals. And there was daddy and I. Calm. Sipping rum punch. Lounging in a fixed spot. Watching you sit in the middle of a huge play area all by yourself while a tornado made from blankets, toys, half-eaten food, babies, toddlers, tears, clothing and ragged run-down parents rapidly swirled around you. An anti-crawling eye of the storm. Our favorite little eye.
My little baby. My Peter Pan of a baby.
And then daddy showed me this picture he took of you one day on your boys’ day out to a home improvement store.
And I can’t stop staring at it. It’s the toddler you are becoming when I wasn’t looking for it. The little man with his windbreaker who wants to sit up like a big boy in the shopping cart/trolley. The best boy that is counting down to one year. How could I want to stop it? I already know tomorrow you’re going to make me laugh even harder than you did today.
I love you with all my heart x my heart + my heart to the hearth degree x my heart again + infinity.