Oh my dear, you are Trouble. A menace. A handful and a demon and a beast, and I adore you so madly I can hardly stand it. You have finally stopped trying to choke yourself to death on every stray object you find lying around and have instead started trying to kill yourself by flinging yourself from the top of playground equipment or drowning in the pool or plummeting down the stairs, which you insist on walking down forward while holding the rail and oh how I miss the days when you got such joy from hurling yourself downstairs feet first on your tummy. To think I actually worried about that at the time!
You are a total flirt and wrap everyone you meet firmly around your little finger. You do it by acting all shy and coy at first and hiding behind Ama (me), and then peeking out quickly and flashing that smile of yours and man oh man everyone falls madly in love with you and you giggle with glee.
You are in the middle of your Buckle Period. You can do them but not undo them, so I spend much of each day responding to frantic calls of "Ama! Buckle! Ama! Buckle!" You are also in the middle of you Lotion Period, and love nothing quite so much as a handful of "rubby" (lotion, soap, hand sanitizer, even water in a pinch) that you can run in and then rub on another person or thing and then demand a towel to clean off.
You ask for tissues by saying "achoo." You ask for pears by saying "apple" and signing "pear." You say "Owen" quite clearly, along with so many other words I can't manage to count them, but my best estimate is between 60 and 100, including "goggles," "outside," "hamper," "bellybutton" and "penis." Yes, we are quite proud. You can identify Mia, Dada, Mama, Nana and Mimi by name. You make animal noises on command, and are especially proud of your meows and moos, but your woof woofs are definitely the cutest. You manage some sentences too, although mostly of the "Hi Dada," "Hi Dog," "Hi Baby" variety,
You remain fearless, lately throwing yourself face first into the wading pool (oh my god, stop that!) and down any slide you encounter. You love to climb, swing, be upside down, hang on bars, do somersaults, eat, drink gallons of milk, and chase Mia all over the house. You give kisses and kisses and kisses, and when nothing is readily available for kissing you blow kisses. You frequently wake me up by kissing me, which makes it hard to get angry about the 5 AM wake up call.
You had been doing really well on the sleep thing, and then really badly, and then really well to the point of not sleeping with me at all for several nights, and now really badly again. You seem to be cutting roughly 193 teeth, so maybe that will pass and we will get back into a better phase.
We went back to the beach this month, you were too young to appreciate anything about it last year other than the continued availability of milk, and this year you adored it. You loved the sand, loved the ocean, loved the boardwalk, loved the people, loved Funland so much I worried your little body would shake itself to bits with joy. It was fun to see you so far out of your element, so far from your routines, and still so happy and sweet and so ready to enjoy every moment of life.
I learned something important this month - when you get impossibly funny it means it is time to feed you. Makes sense, right? Except that you get fussy and say you aren't hungry and refuse to eat. But after a few minutes of being basically force fed cheese or peas or tofu (man, how you love tofu) and some milk, I get my sweet little boy back. Lesson learned, you take after your father.
There is so much more. I can't possibly capture all of your wonderful, beautiful, crazy sides. You, sweet boy, are my Achilles Heel, my weakness, the very softest part of my rather hard heart. And for your own good, I have to spend most of my time pretending that is not the case, but I can tell you here, because you can't read.