There’s another little man in my life. He reminds me every day that he’s not just the baby anymore. Nope, he’s all boy.
Right now, he’s playing on the kitchen floor with his big brother’s train station and trains. His crazy wiggles and scooches and squirms manage to get him where he wants to go. Now and then he looks up at me with the biggest of smiles and laughs. Then he gets himself up onto his hands and knees, rocks back and forth a bit, and starts the whole routine over again.
He’s perfected the art of the fake laugh, as this is the surest way to get a chuckle out of the rest of us. And he loves nothing more than to see a room full of laughing people.
He puts his hand to his ear and says something similar to “Hi.”
He waves to airplanes and says something along the lines of “Bye-bye” as they disappear beyond the treetops.
He sits on my lap for book after book after book, especially if it’s something good and fun like Pat the Bunny.
And recently, he screws his face up into an expression of full-fledged fury and screams at me when something doesn’t go the way he thinks it should. And you should see the bottom lip and sad eyes he fixes on his daddy when Mama says No.
But his toes are still the yummiest baby toes in the world. Not that I’ve been nibbling or anything.