eleven months

Dear Daniel,

The countdown is on! In one more month, you'll no longer be an infant. I can't decide if this realization makes me happy or sad. On the one hand, you're getting so adorably big, incredibly wiggly, on-the-go, and independent. But on the other, you're no longer so adorably tiny, and I sometimes find myself yearning for the completely helpless baby you were not so very long ago.

Your personality has reached a new level. You make it quite clear (with easy to interpret writhing and back arching) when you want to be let down, and when we do --- zoom! Off you go! Your favorite place to explore is the trashcan in my bedroom, and when you're not digging through there, you're cruising along any piece of furniture you can find. Though you have not yet been brave enough to let go, you are standing upright far more often than you crawl around on all fours. Whether you do it for sport or just can't help yourself, you love to use your six teeth (four on top, two on the bottom) to take bites out of the things, and people, you love. It's painful to be on the receiving end, but the drooly grin you dole out after you're stopped makes this new hobby a little less awful. You babble with the best of them, and sometimes I think I hear you saying a few words -- "mama," "all done," and "banana" -- in context. But in a family full of delayed talkers, I hesitate to claim that you've actually said your first words, so in the meantime I'll just keep pretending I'm hearing things correctly.

Sifting for treasures.

 

 

And he found one!

Perhaps because your dad has been away a lot of the last few weeks, either working late hours, traveling for business, or helping Grandma Joyce as she battles leukemia, you've become a real mama's boy. You get worried when you can't find me in the house, and the first place you come looking for me is behind the closed bathroom door, even when I'm not in there, where you park yourself and and claw at the door as you scream in panic. When I come around a corner calling your name in an effort to console you, you turn around as you laugh through choked sobs in utter relief to have found me.

The other night you woke up very unhappy. Dad went to try to calm you, and when that didn't work, he retrieved you from your crib and brought you to our bed. All of his efforts to stop your tears were unsuccessful, so he handed you over to me. As soon as you were sprawled horizontally across my body, you stopped crying, sweetly tossed and turned, your dark beady eyes occasionally catching mine, until you finally got comfortable and fell back to sleep. It was the first time in a while that I didn't mind my own night's sleep being interrupted. In fact, I almost wanted that sleepless night to go on forever.

No matter how big you grow or independent you get, a part of you will always be my sweet, helpless baby boy. But even so, I fully intend to treasure these last few days of your infanthood. I love you, Danny!

Love,
Mama