The weekend after your birthday we had your first official birthday party. Booze, poker, dancing girls. Jack, it was amazing. Well, okay. Maybe more like mimosas, coloring, dancing girls. You were the life of the party as you happily dug into your homemade cake decorated by none other than your artistically-inclined dad. Not too many kids can say their first cake was lovingly covered in overprocessed, high concentration glucose-fructose, non-organic chocolate and vanilla frosting by their dear old dad. Aunts, cousins, grandmas, great grandmas, and friends were all on hand to celebrate the milestone with you. You were mostly just happy to be the center of all attention, somewhat like another male who lives in our household who shall remain unnamed.
Since then, you've pretty much been on a mission to get this walking thing taken care of. You progressed from the occassional wobbly step to about a 50/50 crawling and walking split. As I write this, you are now pretty much walking full time. Your little elbows bent at 90 degrees, your fists clenched, and ambling from side to side as you go. Kind of like a tensed-up miniature cowboy who has ridden one too many bulls in his time. You seem to relish the new opportunities this mobility brings. Better access to countertops! Able to reach more drawers! Finally able to get into the cereal cupboard on your own! You are a living, breathing brochure for the benefits of toddler walking. I expect to see you on a late-night infomercial one day soon, schlocking some "Secrets of Two-Footedness Revealed" DVD and companion book set for two easy payments of $39.99. You'll be demonstrating to the kids how to finally beat mom's system for getting to the nice books on the high book shelf.
While you've mastered your father's panache for physical exertion, you've also continued your drive towards matching your mom's keen mastery for the English language. You've done the easy ones - mama, dadda, ball, apple. You even call out for your stuffed sheep by crying "Baaaa baaaa" when you see it. But now - now! - you are tearing up the linguistic roadways with two syllable words. I smell Harvard, Jack. Technically, you started with the two syllable words as you entered your fourteenth month, so really, I can't say much in this update or it'll ruin the next one for you. Suffice to say, you are a genius. I'm already working on your Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech.
I can't tell you how much I mean it when I say how much more I love each passing month with you. Everything is just more full, more fun. You are so curious and determined. And easily frustrated. But you come by that last trait honestly since you are half made up of your dad's chromosomes. Your smile is absolutely infectious. It doesn't matter how down I am or how mad I am because you've eaten the paper off yet another one of my tampons, the second you turn on that smile everything is forgiven and forgotten. I wait for that smile every morning and it's what I remember about you every night. Whatever you are feeling, you feel it with your whole being. Whether happy, sad, mad or frustrated - you put your entire self into that emotion of the moment. I feel it, Jack. I feel your joy and your sorrow and I'm in it all the way with you, baby boy.
Love,
Your Momma
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