Friday, September 10, 2010


Little Buddy,

Every monthly post starts with something about how the time has flown. Each milestone seems impossible given the fact that you're still supposed to be tiny and covered in hair and shrieking at me like your world was just turned upside down and it's all my fault. Well, at least the third part still holds true. You're nothing if not consistent. I'm sorry this particular update is so late but we were in San Diego when you hit this year and a half milestone. A YEAR AND A HALF? I refuse to believe it. A couple days ago I turned 29 and at the moment I'm refusing to acknowledge any future birthdays. I think I'll just wrap you right into this ban on getting any older. You're 18 months. Forever.

Except that if you stopped getting older than I'd perpetually have a toddler who insists on rubbing his food in his hair, who urinates in a freshly filled bathtub, and who is deathly afraid of flies. But, on the flip side, I'd get to keep you bite sized forever. I'd be greeted every morning with a giant grin and a, "Hi!" And I'd have the constant joy of watching you discovering things.

We cut your hair. It was the second time daddy attempted it with his clippers and, for some unknown reason, we couldn't find the size we'd used last time. I told him just to use the next down and when he was finished we could not stop laughing. It was the least amount of hair we'd ever seen you with. But Oh. My. Goodness. I always thought you had a cute head, cute back of the neck, cute ears. Now that there is virtually no hair distracting me I can put my full attention on just how perfectly shaped your head is. I can kiss the back of your neck with wild abandon--and I do. And you giggle. Hysterically.

You've lightened up a little on the stranger danger and I think I speak for everyone who knows you when I say, "THANK YOU!" Because good heavens it was getting annoying. You still prefer my arms and you'll still cry if I try to leave you somewhere for five seconds but you get over it much more quickly. We call these coping skills.

In August we spent a lot of time at the pool. Your brother has turned himself into a little fish and you think that because he's learning how to swim all by himself that means you can too. Wrong. Son, you simply can't let go of the side of the pool and expect to not sink. And is it too much to ask that you develop a healthy fear of the water. A cautionary fear? Something? Because I promise that sinking is not synonymous with swimming and sinking is exactly what would happen if I ever granted your wish to, "AHBALALABHA!" which you scream into my face and which I'm sure means, "LET GO OF ME NOW!"

You run. You jump. You climb. You say about 10 words, sign a few more, babble exhaustively, play Peek-a-Boo, and are having a love affair with your toothbrush. No joke. If you see a toothbrush--anyone's toothbrush--you have to have one right that second. When it's actually time I say, "Lay down so I can brush your teeth." You drop onto your bum and then flop onto your back in no time. Of course, taking it away at the end is a real treat for everyone. I think it would be permanently affixed to your hand if you had your way. Actually, that isn't such a bad idea as it might help with the incessant thumb sucking.

Each night I creep into your room and take a moment to watch you sleep. I'm having trouble comprehending how big you look in your crib. Huge. Grown up.

But still so small. Still tiny enough to fit easily on my hip. Still my baby. I'm so glad you learn and grow and discover--just don't be in too big of a hurry, kay?



  1. A cute post for a cute boy :) Happy eighteen months, Matthew!

  2. I want to know who the photographer was for his 18 month photo. Too cute. Love you Little Buddy.

  3. oh sweet boy! is that not the cutest picture ever? wow!