Mattias, you are 11 months now. Next month, you will be ONE YEAR OLD, which seems utterly impossible. Which is an utter cliche. But, it's true. When I look at you, even as you stand and babble and finally consider drinking from a sippy cup, I see my tiny (well, not so tiny) newborn.
At 11 months, you are so much fun. Actually, you sometimes feel very exhausting and more than a little bit violent. My legs are covered in bruises from your biting. My arms have a couple too, as well as several scratch marks. My head is almost always recovering from vicious attempts at pulling out all my hair. It's intense. But at 11 months, I can forgive it.
Because you really are a lot of fun. This month you've learned to clap. No one ever in the history of ever has been more proud of an accomplishment. Your eyes grow hugely wide and your smile overtakes your whole face as you repeatedly slap your soft, chubby hands together. You've just learned to say "Mama" and while your proudest accomplishment is clapping, that one is mine. You've said "Dada" for months now, but not until last week did you finally respond to my incessant, "Mama Mama Mama?"-ing.
You entertain yourself so well. So much better than your sister, which I daresay is common among second children. You are left to fend for yourself much more than she ever was. You love removing all the books from shelves, blocks from the shape sorter and have recently discovered the thrill of completely unrolling the toilet paper roll. And speaking of the bathroom, your life's mission is to splash around in the toilet bowl. Mostly, we've been successful at thwarting your efforts.
One of my favorite things about you right now is your love of trains and cars and trucks because it so perfectly gender stereotypical. Most of the these toys I've had since your sister was a baby (in the interest of not gender stereotyping her) and yet you've taken to them in a way she didn't until much later. You grab the back of a truck, crawl around the house, driving it as you go. I really love it. You are also fascinated by any and all wheels. You sister's baby doll stroller, small wheels on matchbox cars and most especially the trash can wheels at the playground which I'm sure are coated several inches thick with grime and dog pee.
At the end of the day, biting and messes and refusal of sleep aside, you are just the sweetest boy. As I've said a million times, I could stare into your big blue eyes all day. You communicate so much love through your gaze. You smile generously and are happy sharing hugs with anyone. Mostly, though, you love hugging your sister. Sometimes the hugging turns to hair tugging, but usually you just seem perfectly happy to lean over and wrap your arms around her shoulders in a moment of sibling love.
Part of us wonders if you might be our last baby so I'm savoring you. The moments when you aren't shoving sand in your mouth and waking up every hour of the night, I'm savoring them. The way you fall asleep in my arms after nursing, the way everything you find in the house fascinates you, the way you wrap your arms around the neck to cuddle, your chubby-cheeked baby smile, your soft skin, your scuffed and dirty knees and toes. I'm soaking it all up as best I can, knowing next month, when you are a one year old, it will be much harder for me to think of you as a brand new baby.
