Oh the grunts. The incessant grunts. Coming from someone who is now old enough to KNOW what he wants but not old enough to SAY what he wants. And so he grunts. Grunts at his delightful and charming momma as if it say "Jeepers creepers, woman! How can you spend THIS much time with me and NOT know that 'uh uh UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH' means 'raisins'? How did I get stuck with such a slow-learnin' mom?"
And in other big (read: ENORMOUS) news: Houston, we have a walker!!! I forgot how much fun the early walker stage is. You clomp around with the grace of Frankenstein and the coordination of someone who's had a few too many adult beverages. And thankfully you don't seem to mind that I giggle every time you fall (it happens a lot). Natalie is the proudest EVER of you. When she sees you walk, she screams "Charlie you're DOING it, buddy!! Mommy LOOK! Charlie's WALKING!!! Come here, buddy! Come to Natalie!!" Talk about precious. It almost makes up for her screeching at you every single time you have the gall to LOOK at one of her toys. Almost. (I wrote this paragraph a week ago; in the past 7 days, your walking ability has increased exponentially. You went from taking 10 steps at a time to walking up and down our driveway three times without stopping. Awesome! You're very much like Natalie in this respect. She was a late potty-trainer; you were a late walker. But once you both decided to do your respective activity, it was done. There was really no 'accident' stage.)
Speaking of Natalie, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, when we get to a certain point (just past the Chick-Fil-A, in case you're curious) on our way to her preschool, your whole face lights up and you say "NAna NAna NAna" over and over. You're still her Number One Fan.
You're a crib gnawer. Ew. Again, if you'd simply decide to grow teeth faster than 1/4 tooth per month (after 15 months, your FIFTH tooth has just barely popped through), you wouldn't feel the need to gnaw on anything and everything you see.
You've gotten really interested in books this month. You've always liked playing with books, but now you show a lot of interest in actually paying attention to what's on the pages. You especially like the pictures of the lion and cow in your farm animal book, the cows in Charlie the Ranch Dog (BTW - you don't seem to care that the dog's name is Charlie), and the owl in A Sick Day for Amos McGee. And while your favorite car game is still picking up a book from our Bin O' Books and throwing it on the floor of the van, on more than one occasion, I've seen you open a book and stare intently at it for a few minutes (all of this observation is done at red lights, of course. Safety first.)
You were a late walker and you are a late tooth grower, but let me tell you something, my boy: you keep doing things in your own time. Because it forces me to calm down. And goodness knows, if there's one thing I could use, it's a big dose of Calm the Heck Down. I'm appreciative that something as simple as you not walking is a perfect reminder that I'm in control of very few things in this world. Know what another one of those things is? How helplessly in love with you I am. I have no control over that. And that's A-OK with me.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
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