Ten Months and Counting

Dear Boy,

I don't know. I just don't know how you managed to crawl your way to ten months old. It boggles the mind. I can't figure out how you were just staring at me with your body stuck inside your birth mother and your eyes locked with your mama's and now you're stepping all over the place and feeding yourself fist fulls of food. I try to wrap my brain around the swiftness of it all but I fail every single time.

Your first Christmas was...interesting. I've decided that nearly ten months old is the worst possible age to be on Christmas morning. You were only slightly interested in anything you got but you made it your mission in life to squawk at everyone else when it was their turn. Eventually we decided to open all of your gifts first and then we plopped you down in the middle of your crib with all your new toys. You squealed and clamored and played while the rest of us enjoyed a slow Christmas.

Nothing about you is slow. Each and every waking moment is go go go. If you stopped for a fraction of a minute, well, you might miss something. Everything is high speed and I suspect that is how we've gotten to ten months. It's just that you've managed to crash through every month leading up to this.

You've added "dada" to your list of vocabulary words. I feed you a bottle in our bed every morning and if your brother comes into the room, you look around as if to make sure that everyone is accounted for. If daddy isn't there you stare at the door and scream his name until he appears or I convince you that he isn't home.

Grandma and Grandpa are here visiting and you've been having so much fun playing with them. In fact, we haven't slowed down enough for me to blog which is why this is a day overdue. It's late and all the house is quiet except for my clicking away in an attempt to capture you at ten months. I don't want to forget the way your hands sound when they clap together, the way your tongue pokes out from between your lips all the time, or the adorable stink bug position your were in when I just went to cover you up. I want to remember the way your brother and you started playing together this month and the way he calls you, "Buddy Ole Pal" and "Buckaroo" and they somehow seem to fit you perfectly. I don't want to forget what it felt like to be a family on your first Christmas and how you are never, ever, full and how good it feels to snuggle you in my arms.

I love you. I've loved you for ten months--much longer, really. I'll love you forever--and really, much longer, even, than that.