Tomorrow you are 16 months old. Not really a huge milestone, but a certain marking of the rapid passage of time, nonetheless. I realized yesterday that you are now at nearly the exact same age Meredith was when we moved to California. Not really all that interesting, except that your sister seemed so old to me then. Not you, you are my little baby. Except, HA!
Except for your lack of words and endless babbling, there is nothing baby-like about you. Oh, wait, you also don't sleep through the night. Ok, so you still have some baby qualities, but as much as I think of you as little you are a increasingly my big boy on the go. You run, run, run everywhere you go. Your every move seems to be in an effort to show off your strength. You are forever picking up and handling things I think are far beyond your strength abilities.
You are a daredevil. You climb without fear and depth perception. Constantly falling, hitting your head and hopping right back up as if nothing happened. Those things people warn you about, safety-wise, baffled me with your sister. Now, I'm like, "Oh. I get it." You grab at the stove. Poke your fingers in sockets. Linger dangerously near edges.
One of your only words is "Hi!" and just like your sister, you use it generously, endearing strangers to you immediately with the high-pitched, cheerful way to exclaim it. While you don't have many words, you manage to communicate effectively. You grunt and screech and gesture wildly for food, to be picked up, to go outside, to breastfeed again.
Almost daily, I am thankful that you're a cuddler. Two cuddly kids. How can one mom be so lucky? You give the best hugs. Tight and bursting with love. Everytime you wrap your arms around my neck I can't help but think of the little ditty,
"I love you a a bushel and a peck,
A bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck."
Earlier this week as we flew home, we sat in front of a tween-age boy who was flying solo. He spoke with his mom on the phone before take-off, repeatedly telling her he loved her. My heart hopes so much our bond is always as strong as it is now. It can tiresome having a mama's boy. Always leaning over to pick up a rather hefty little man, always being touched and needed. Except, it's also an honor. A privilege. My little buddy, I'm so glad you're mine.