Today you turn a mind-boggingly fourteen months old, and you know what that means? That means that it's time to talk about all last month's doings.
Thirteen months seems to be that magical time where light bulbs are going off like crazy for you. Doors are swinging wide open in your ever-growing brain, and you are in a constant state of figuring stuff out. Right now, as I'm typing this, you are clicking the buckles of your high chair together. For months now you've been obsessed with buckles of all kinds, and then one day you set your mouth just right, and clicked them together. As long as you can't undo them, I'll be happy.
Your list of words has grown significantly, and now you say: Daddy, dog, kitty(always at an unbelievably high pitch), bird, bear, bunny, duck, sometimes Mama. If you don't know what an animal is, the default answer is always dog. You also say 'baaaa' for sheep, which is just plain adorable, if I do say so myself. Every once in awhile you will say your own version of "brown bear" and "uh oh". Any other child is a "did". When you want something, you point at it and say, "Yeah, yeah, YEAH!" which isn't very mannerly but very cute, if you consider dictators rather cute. However, yelling NA NA NA NA at something you want desperately is neither adorable nor cute, no not at all. On the other hand, signing is an all over success. We only have one DVD, but you adore it so much and nearly fall over from the joy of OTHER! KIDS! You sign more, eat, ball, all done, and your own sign for water. Sometimes you flash me your milk sign, but only if I ask you for it, which is not the way this interaction is supposed to be conducted, sir. Otherwise you're all about hiking up my shirt for your milk fix.
You continue to prove that you are a really fun little dude. Sure, you specialize in a paint-peeling screech when you are thwarted, but I can overlook that. We play all sorts of games now, the favorite one being chase. You relish being chased, and run away with the most heart-explodingly-sweet expression on your face, laughing the entire time. The love of balls has begun, and weirdly, you already know how to kick a ball. I didn't show you, and neither did your daddy. I am really afraid what this means, mostly because if you really end up liking that whole kick-the-ball thing, I'll be another weary soccer mom, clutching my coffee at freaking 6:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning. Maybe you'll be like me and just enjoy kickball? I shall live in hope, my son. I may chant no soccer no soccer over your crib until then, just for good measure.
Also, you've learned how to give kisses. One morning, as you sat up wide-eyed and I tried to pry both eyes open, I kissed you and said, "Where's my kiss?" Without missing a beat, you puckered up and made a kiss sound, leaning in to my cheek. That moment alone is worth every poopy diaper you've ever pooped. One afternoon you went back and forth between your daddy and I, distributing and receiving kisses for a good five to ten minutes. Hooray for kissing!
You're now crazy for They Might Be Giants, all their podcasts and videos on YouTube. It doesn't hurt that Daddy and I love them as well. Life is too short to endure crapola kid music, and this stuff is entirely too much fun. Now we sing the songs constantly, and you always run back to the computer in the hope that we will put on your tunes and stop messing them up already.
At least once a day, you make my heart stop with love for you. I tell you, "You're my favorite guy in the world." It's true, even though most days, Daddy comes a close second. Thomas, these days I consider you my teacher, the person who is helping me to slow down, pay attention, and making me laugh more than I've ever laughed. These days sometimes seem so long, so much the same, and I feel entirely boring. That's okay. One day I'll get my edge back, maybe, or maybe I'll just be happy baking a cake and feeding your monstrous adolescent appetite. Your Daddy and I went out on a date, all by ourselves the other night, and we couldn't stop talking about you. We agreed that it's impossible to consider you anything but a positive addition to our little family, and how good life is, just because you're here with us. You've given us a focus, something to work for, and to strive to be the very best people we can be, for you. You don't know how much we needed you.
Love, your lucky