Lately since it's been getting colder and he's been trying to walk, I've had to dress him up more. No more little one piece rompers with puppies and smiling cartoon dinos. He's wearing jeans. A hardcore leather jacket. Long sleeve shirts with monsters and aliens and rock star graphics. And even... shoes, dare I say, socks! He wears classier, finer, and more clothes than the average West Virginian. He looks so grown up.
He tries to brush his own hair. He tries to buckle himself into his car seat. He holds the leash when my parents walk the dog. He knows where specific pieces of his toys belong, and puts them there. He does all kinds of things that seem like no big deal, but when you consider that a year ago he was still living off of my (ew) placenta and unable to even focus his eyes... Yeah. It's a pretty big deal. I am just the tiniest bit proud.
He's starting to try some words on for size. He says "mo" or "mom" for more. He knows that cows go moo, dogs go woof woof, and kisses go "muah." And now that he's starting to walk? He just seems so big.
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| So big, in fact, that he sits forward facing in the car now. |
Lots of people say, "But don't you miss when he was a tiny baby!?"
I don't. At least I don't miss it right now.
Because he is becoming so much more person-like, so much less dog-like. Because I like that he is happy to see me. Because I like that he has his own personality. Because it is good to know that all of the work I do for him is actually contributing to something more than poop and spit up. Because I just like who he is turning out to be.
And while we can go out on family dates to the zoo, and he can watch monkeys and imitate their sounds...
...And while we can have deep, meaningful conversations about animals...
...And while we can build cardboard box forts together...
...And while he can stand up to beg for a Rice Crispies treat...
...When he falls asleep, he is still a little baby, no matter how I dress him up.
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