I keep fighting the good fight to not treat you like a second child. But, you are a second child. Hurrah!
So without further ado, here is your late and very short monthly letter from mama:
You really started talking. You yell things like DA DA DA DA DA DA DA DA DA DADADADADADADADA which sounds like SOMEONE BETTER PUT THE PURPLE DINOSAUR TOY IN MY MOUTH, STAT to my trained ear. You are eating us out of house and home and are surprisingly good at feeding yourself with finger foods. You are a tooth-less wonder. You love to roll and the changing table’s days are numbered. After most naps now and in the morning, you’re on your stomach. Still clutching your stuffed bear and dog and rabbit and penguin. I don’t even know what it will be like to have a real crawler as a child. You got your first haircut because on a windy day I couldn’t handle anymore how your entire crazy toupee-like hair would do its combover thing. We marched into a random barber and Giovanni cut your hair. I wanted it long still but he’s from another generation where respectable babies have short hair and he vetoed me with his scissors. You are still the most handsome and beautiful thing and sometimes your haircut molds itself into a fauxhawk, so it all worked out for the best. You squeal. You had (and loved) ice cream for the first time. Your smile is legendary. Your chubby legs and perfect skin and grasping hands and spiky fingernails and outrageous cheeks make a lot of people happy. They make me ecstatic. Also, ever since Valentine’s Day, you sleep through the night. Simon, I need to explain it so you understand. You go to bed and then we don’t hear a peep from you for twelve hours. Because you’re sleeping through, Simon. You did it on your own. You’re sleeping through the night and I swear I am so monumentally proud of this moment that I promise you right now to bank the achievement for a reward later and when you have your Sweet Sixteen I am going to roll up to the sidewalk outside the party with a custom-painted 2027 limited edition Hummer just for you, with a built-in Swarovski-encrusted video monitor so you can better see the aliens you Facetime with.
I get to be your mama.