I am late on your last letter, weeks late now. Partly we have been busy but I think a big reason is because I don’t want to acknowledge that you can really be over a year old. The fact that you are a toddler now, doing the zombie baby walk across the room most of the time rather than crawling, is just a little more than I can take! I suppose that technically I can say that while you walk you are not yet walking (not your primary form of transportation all the time), but that day is coming soon!
If you ever read this, you will probably think I am so lame (or whatever equivalent word is in at the time), but I miss my baby.
One year old found you with a full head of hair and three molars (!). You have not been a bad teether, except for the night that you woke up every two hours and I fed you six times or something ridiculous like that between 8:00 and 5:30. Eesh. Not fun. You have the full set now, though you are still missing the teeth that come right before your molars. I’m sure those will pop through a little easier!
You are ticklish, oh so ticklish, and I love capitalizing on that fact! You collapse at the slightest touch sometimes and it’s just adorable. Also fun is driving a little train over your tummy and saying “Choo-choo!” You start laughing before the train even comes close now. You went through a screaming phase, which was loud and a little less delightful. You seem to do better communicating now, although the screaming does happen when you are tired and/or hungry. Speaking of tired, you actually fell asleep at dinner once, causing us to question whether you have inherited your father’s slightly narcoleptic genes. No car keys for you anytime soon!
You are a strange eater, still. No go on any pureed stuff but you will happily eat pancakes, homemade bread, and yesterday you were eating raisin bran off of my spoon! I am not sure if I just don’t understand how to get babies to eat or if we simply produce babies that don’t want to eat people food. Whatever the case, you were nearly 23 pounds on your birthday, two pounds heavier than Isaac at that point. Clearly you are not starving. Pudgy babies are the best! You are also starting to experiment with the sippy cup – we are still working out the technical issues.
You are more squirmy and difficult to dress and diaper these days. You are forever twisting and wiggling out of my grasp, causing me to curse the makers of baby clothes with too many (or really any) snaps. No snaps for mobile babies! You still do not keep socks on your feet. Your shoes stay on most of the time, but both socks and shoes tend to end up off your feet and in your mouth. When your toes turn blue and fall off, don’t blame me!
Isaac is fond of chasing you, either on his hands and knees, roaring like a lion (which kind of freaks you out) or walking slowly after you while you get so excited you fall down.
We are working to teach him how to play “Ring around the Rosie” with you, after witnessing him holding your hands and singing while you both bounced up and down. Then he got to the end and as he sang “all fall down” he pushed you over with absolutely no malice – you just needed to fall down and he was helping. You were not a fan. You’ve survived a year of life with your brother; life is a party until it’s suddenly not.
You love music and you love dancing. By dancing, I either mean a swaying of your head, bouncing up and down in one place, or a slightly more complex hip movement that makes me believe we are raising a baby Elvis. Sometimes when you are walking or crawling through a room and music comes on you are compelled to stop and dance. It’s the funniest thing, as if dancing to music is so innate that it overrides getting to your destination! Must. Stop. Crawling. And. DANCE!!!
Other favorites including pulling every pot and pan out from the drawer under the stove and sitting in the drawer. Guess which drawer in the kitchen is broken now?
You are not really talking, but you do the sweetest wave and say “Buh! Buh!” when prompted. In fact, just before your birthday I found you waving “buh” as you tried to make your escape out the front door. Alone. You have found your own baby sign for “pick me up” and that is to crawl or walk to my feet, look up, and stretch your arms way over your head, hands raised in supplication. Who can resist that?
Twelve months is such a strange age; you have so much more mobility and so very little control. At this stage, you are fearless, you are unbribe-able, you are one. And I do not plan on flying on a plane with you any time soon!
I can’t believe how fast the year has gone, Jonathan. It feels like you have changed so quickly, grown so fast.
Stranger still that these days where you toddle over and tug at my jeans wanting to be held and give me baby kisses that manage to serve as a complete face wash will be just as fleeting.
It’s been a good year, Jonathan.
I love you.