08.25.11 My sweet, darling boy.
A year old. I’ve been thinking all week about the days before you were born, when I was in labor. How long it took, and yet now it’s hard to even remember, because at the end of it all you came out purple and scrunchy and lay on my chest with a full head of hair and such perfect little hands.
We won’t know the exact numbers until your 1-year appointment, but you’re at least a foot taller now. I’d guess you weigh almost 20 pounds more. That’s a lot of growing to do in one year. You aren’t quite walking yet—you cruise on anything that can support you (one-handed, barely touching), and do well with walker-toys, but you won’t even try if we’re holding you up. You want to do everything on your own, and if we try to help you let your legs go limp and sit down. Stubborn!
We’ve noticed in general that you observe everything around you and soak in how something will work, refusing to do it until you’ve figured it out. You crawled suddenly, and you pick up things like giving a high five almost instantly. Recently you’ve started giving kisses—the wettest kisses in the world—by opening your mouth all the way and then resting it on our cheeks.
We play with balls a lot—you will chase them around the room or try to eat them (or give them kisses!) and push them with your face. You like cars, and you spend a lot of time closing doors and trying to close the gate on your room (only while you’re outside it, though). The other day I was blocking it so you couldn’t get it closed and you tried to lift my feet out of the way.
You eat a ton. You love sweet potatoes, bread with cheese (quesadillas, flatbreads with cheese on top, grilled cheese, plain old cheese toast), bread with hummus, bread with butter and jam... You’re obsessed with yogurt, and this week you ate half an order of chinese dumplings.
You hate hate hate having your face and hands wiped clean. And you tend to yell when your hair is rinsed and diaper is changed, too. I guess it’s any time you don’t think you’re in control?
A couple months ago you started taking two-hour naps, from 9-11 and 2-4. It was amazing, though I felt like we didn’t actually have much time to play! Now I think you’re transitioning towards one nap; you fight harder before going to sleep, especially in the morning, and wake more frequently. You’ve started tipping the lamp over on the table by your bed: I don’t know what you’re up to in there, but I’m seriously considering a video monitor so I can find out.
The weekend came and went and I didn’t get a chance to finish writing this. Your birthday party was nice—a big group of adults watching you play in the park! You were hilarious when we fed you some cupcake; you applauded and waved your hands in the air.
Just in the week since I started writing to you you dropped the morning nap. You’ve adapted quickly, though late morning, before lunch, is a tough time for a tired boy.
In the last few days you’ve started talking and imitating sounds in a much more precise way. Your babbling has shifted from baby talk to mimicry of the tones and rhythms of adult speech. You saw “baaaw” for ball, and “bah” for bye. “Dada” seems focused, while “mama” means “I’m furious.” Gee, thanks. “Hi” seems to be en route, and you are also suddenly using signs for “more” and “all done,” despite the decidedly inconsistent approach we’ve taken to signing with you.
You got a drum for your birthday and you’re deeply in love with it. You have great rhythm.
You have a great laugh.
You have great hair.
You’re a great boy and I love you so much.
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