You have been ten months old for a few days now, and I've been having trouble finding the time to write this letter because you never sit still and I spend all of my time chasing you around the house pulling power cords out of your mouth. You crawl like a maniac, pull up on anything that is remotely stable, and are cruising at a sprint. You have started to do that thing while cruising where you look at where you want to go next and carefully consider if you can cover the gap on two legs. So far, you always drop down and crawl over, but I don't think it will be too much longer before you take the plunge and start walking. I'm not afraid though, you are already so mobile that walking can't really make it any worse. You even learned to climb the stairs last weekend and love to do it most when Mia is already at the top calling to you and cheering you on.
The great joy of my life right now is that any time I leave you for even a few minutes and then come back, you see me and break into this amazing, beautiful grin and crawl to me as fast as you can. I love to see you so happy, and I love to see that I make you so happy. Also, it is a nice change from your usual evil grin, which Daddy thinks you copied from Mia. I think it is of your own invention, and you wear it anytime you know you are doing something funny or naughty. And oh, you are naughty. When we tell you know you just laugh and do it again. When I tell you know and move you away you laugh and head straight back for whatever it was that got you in trouble.
You love to give high fives and fist bumps, to clap and to wave. You refuse to play "so big" but are the king of the peek a boo marathon. Your goal in life is to insure that no object ever rests on top of any other object. You love anything that makes noise, love to play maracas and the piano, and talk non-stop all day long. I think you may even understand that mama means Mama, since that is what you almost always say when you are following me around wanting to be picked up.
You refuse to be contained - no stroller, no highchair, no Ergo. You will tolerate each only briefly and as long as it suits your purpose, and then you are done and dedicate yourself to rupturing eardrums until you are released. You are a man on the move.
You love crackers. Oh how you love crackers. Crackers and a sippy cup of water and you are a happy, happy baby. You especially love to have crackers and water standing at the little table in the kitchen. You are desperate to be allowed to eat real people food and get angry when I give you mushy pears and super thin apple slices instead of pizza and beer.
Stinky Pete, we have started talking about your birthday, and I can't believe we are so close. It seems both that you just got here and that you have always been here. I am enjoying watching you grow and learn, but am already dreading the time when you will not want to spend so much of your time perched on my hip. Please stay up there just a bit longer, it makes it easier to kiss your fat little neck.