Sunday, December 2, 2012
Dear Boy (11 months)
You are 11 months old. Holy Moley. Where did that go?
I think quite a lot of that time has been spent chasing you. You started crawling at none and a half months and I think that same day you decided you wanted to pull everything off shelves, empty your Dad's bin, open cupboard doors, eat CDs and turn the playstation on and off, on and off, on and off. We've had to rearrange the house a little, although it's still a minefield of electronics, cables, switches and sockets that we won't let you touch.
You are a crawling machine. You speed from room to room, leaving toy debris in your wake. You've recently discovered that you can do full laps around the house, skittering on the wooden floors like a puppy. You've also starting crawling over stuff, up and down steps and levering yourself up onto boxes and over the sides of your paddling pool. Nothing seems to contain you anymore except your cot, but I can see you eyeing off the side. One day, I'll find you monkeying your way up and over that too.
You're also standing, pulling yourself up on the furniture, our legs, the walls, and rattling the bars of the gas heater (lucky you're learning this in summer). You love to stand at the coffee table, picking off the safety bumpers we stuck onto the pointy corners, and eating them. No matter how many times we explain they're there to protect your gorgeous head, you pick them off and chew at them again. You have had lots of bruises and bumps lately, which scares me and your Dad but you pick yourself right back up and continue adventuring.
You are chewing anything and everything because there are new teeth pushing their way into the world. Your first top tooth came through weeks ago, the second last week. The third has turned you into a drooling boy who bites under the guise of giving sloppy kisses and blowing raspberries on our skin. I have teeth marks, especially on my knees, which seem to be your favourite. I'm hoping you get a break after that one breaks through.
On top of the teething, we think you've hit separation anxiety city. You're still a remarkably happy boy but want to be close by whoever is looking after you. If we walk into another room, even briefly, you crawl after us as your little face crumples. It's also happening when you fall asleep - you wail if we leave the room before you fall asleep - so we stay with you, tickle your little arm or lay you back down over and over and over when you flip over and scramble onto your feet. You're terribly pleased with yourself when you do that.
So it's December now and your first Christmas is almost upon us. Your Dad might be a bit of a Christmas grinch but it's my favourite time of year. We're going to have some fun, Dear Boy. There's a wonderful world of lights and decorations and presents and peace and joy out there. I can't wait to show it to you.