The big One-Oh. How does it feel to hit double digits? This will always be the part of the year when you're waiting for your birthday; you won't really appreciate Thanksgiving until you're old enough to want a holiday from school or a gluttonous hot free meal. You're first Hallowe'en is just around the corner, and I'm going to have to start moving on your costume if you're going to be anything this year other than the World's Cutest Baby. I'm thinking that a baby bee would be adorable. I've always wanted to have a little baby bee I could call my own.

Maybe you could even start saying "bee" in time for the trick-or-treat rounds. It's not that hard - you already say "buh" over & over. If you just shift the vowel sound a little, I won't have to work so hard deluding myself that you're talking. I'm told that Dexter can talk by now, and I wouldn't believe it except that his mommies are speech therapists. But I won't really believe it until you can talk. I'm kind of like a Victorian matron that way - until the oldest marries, no one gets to walk the aisle and until I hear you talk, I can't possibly believe that other babies can speak semi-coherently.

You're trying, I'll give you that. Sometimes you just start making noise for the sheer crack of it, especially when you're in a position to be bounced. You love that undulating voice! (You also enjoy flapping your fingers in front of your mouth, which you do with dedication. For you, it isn't a frivolous sound.) Other times you just start with your single syllable songs: there's "ba ba ba...," "da da da..." & "puh puh puh." (When we were at the fabric store last week, you actually started puh-puh-puh-ing when I showed you a length of PUrPle fabric. I said "PUrPle" and you said "puh puh." Does that count?) Your dad is convinced that you know what dada means, but you say it regardless of where your dada is. We try to make it work for you by filling in the gaps, but it doesn't really make sense. Besides, your first word will be mama or honey or computer, not dada. Everyone says dada.

You've taken to waving at inappropriate times as well; you won't wave when we say hello or goodbye, even when we prompt you. But you're perfectly happy to wave at buildings or in the middle of a conversation. Maybe you're just trying to say that you're bored. "Okay, buh bye. Let's go eat some banana. Come on mama, I just waved bye bye!"

Although you're not quite the chatterbox you're sure to become in the fullness of time, your reading is astounding. A few months ago I noticed that you could anticipate each action in Pat the Bunny, and now I notice that your favourite page changes with your development. At first you were really into the mirror because you find yourself endlessly amusing. Now you like to loudly sniff at the flowers because that's part of a fun growly game to play with your adults. And you really, really love sticking your finger through Mama's ring; it enchants and delights you every time you turn the page & see your little finger wiggling from the page before.

You love your books, and you love to be read to. I can't wait until you can start placing your own requests, although I think I know what you want. Blake, I'm here to tell you that the Teletubbies book may look enticing, but it's really boring. You'll just have to trust your mum on that one.

We go to the library fairly frequently because your parents need frequent word injections and the library is our cheapest fix. I think that our quiet, passive infant honeymoon is over, though. We were there yesterday and you almost broke a land speed record scooting out the door as I stuffed books in our bag. You also marauded around while I was trying to look up books; I had to pull you away from three different strangers (you were sucking the toes of the last one, which was when I decided that we needed to go.)

Despite all of our early predictions, you're not quite walking yet. You can sometimes stand alone for a good 2 seconds, but you're not toddling around on your own two feet yet. Given your recent performance in the library I shouldn't be so anxious to reach this particular milestone, but I just can't wait to see you run away, giggling madly. You're a fast kid. Before your bath each night, we strip off your clothes and you shoot away. The game is to chase you & tickle you. Oddly enough, everyone wins.

You're also getting really good at opening cupboard doors and other places of forbidden clutter. One of your favourite games is to open and close the stereo cabinet over and over, just because you like to hear me say "open" and "closed." We've instituted a state-of-the-art security system in the kitchen so that I can cook with you around my legs, but you seem to be able to outwit all of our carefully placed elastic bands. We've even tried winding them around twice. You still triumph!

You actually spend a great deal of time in the kitchen, what with all of the cooking I'm doing these days and your solid three-meals-a-day schedule. You're still more of a taster than an eater, but we have had some amazing victories. This week your favourites are blueberries, applesauce with cinnamon, banana, Heritage-O's, and anything we're eating. You just got your 5th tooth, and you've started gnawing at my fruit whenever you catch me with a snack. If I leave you to it, you can usually get quite a bit of it pulped and swallowed by the time I finish the main part of the fruit. You are relentless and adorable, like a zombie-monkey. Fresh fruuuuuit.

But you don't just confine yourself to proper monkey foods; as long as I'm eating it, you want it. On Thursday you ate a lot of my spicy roti, but I think it was a mistake: you started to cry & claw at your mouth, and later I discovered that the chickpeas were completely untouched by your digestive system. Only nursing could cool your fevered mouth, so for a few minutes we could eat our roti in peace.

Oh yeah, you're still incredibly enthusiastic about nursing. You'll nurse anywhere, anytime. You'll nurse 20 seconds after you've finished a big milky meal (a.k.a. the time it takes you to forget that you were just nursing). You'll nurse in church, you'll nurse by the side of a road, you'll even nurse in the special rocking chair Aunt Scout bought you before you were born. Your characteristic restlessness has made its way into breastfeeding along with everything else you do; at each feeding I can expect you to move yourself from breast to breast with single-minded purpose. Now that you know how to push up my shirt, there is no more dignity left for me on this earth.

But you know what? I don't care.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 10/10/2004 09:18:00 p.m.