You officially started walking today! You've been doing the Two-Step Trip for quite a while (and the assisted walk for even longer) but today is the first day you've sustained your balance - it's no longer one big fall from whatever you were holding in the first place. We were at Grandma & Grandpa's new house when you started showing off, so you not only have balance & agility, but impeccable timing.

The more confident you get with standing and walking, the more grace you show in all other things. Today I put on a tape with "Circle of the Sun," one of your favourite songs since you were tiny. You were kneeling on the floor, and as I started to sing to you, you held out your arms and smiled. It was the first time I have ever seen you reach out to me not because you needed something, but because you were happy and wanted to be happy with me. I picked you up and we danced around the room. Maybe it's a little shmaltzy, but I think of it as our first real mother-son dance, at least the first you've initiated. Thank you for that.

You're still holding steady at eight teeth, maybe because you've spent this month learning how to walk and you just don't have time for making big dental changes. Your hair continues to slowly turn blonde, and it's getting so long now that it curls into little wings over your ears. If you were a girl I'd be clipping it up with tiny barettes, so feel lucky that you're a dude!

Your sense of silliness has taken off this month. Your favourite game is to shake your head back & forth in time with someone else. I once watched you do this with your father until he had to stop. You, though, you'd've kept going to the crack of doom, giggling and shaking your head. You're like that.

(That reminds me of a cute story. A few weeks ago you were super cranky, so I decided to try something that used to work when you were a newborn (i.e. take you into the shower). I know, I know; if you could talk, you'd say 'But I'm so much older and sophisticated now Mother.' And yet it worked, Mr. Smartypants. The only problem is that I'd gone into the bathroom without planning ahead (impulsive? Me??) and as soon as we were out of the shower I had to run downstairs to get a diaper on your cute little behind before you pooped up the place. (Never again, do you hear me? No more pooping on the carpet.) And then I forgot about our old clothes on the bathroom floor, and then we fell asleep and then you father came home. The next day he said, "When I saw both of your clothes on the floor, I just assumed the rapture had occurred. I knew that I wasn't going, and your dad was still watching teevee, so everything fit together.")

That was back when daddy was working evenings and I put you to bed by myself every night. I learned a lot about you in those three weeks. I learned that you're a little story pig, oinking for another hit of Dick Bruna. I learned that you love your bath. I learned that a little nursing can go a long way. And I learned that if I leave everything up to you, you'll be playing until midnight, so it's best to be firm.

It hard to be firm, Blake, because I love to read to you. Every day you come up with a new routine or idea to apply to the books you love. Sometimes it's a new concept, like when you point to the fire in Goodnight Moon and say, 'hot.' Sometimes it's an action, like when you wave your hand and 'wish for fish' just like One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. And sometimes it's extremely abstract, like yesterday when you became enthralled with a photograph of a red maple leaf and shook you hand up and down. It took me a while before I realized that you were "shaking hands" just like you shake hands with your little red maple tree out in the front yard. You're a little spooky sometimes, with all the big thoughts rattling around your wee head.

Fortunately, your vocabulary is rushing to keep pace. As a household, we're thrilled that you've expanded past "Ic! Ic!" and will sometimes repeat the names we try to impress upon you. You have "daddy" down, clear as a bell, and you can usually get him to wake up and start the day with just your joyful roll call. "Mama" you're not really sure of (it usually comes out as "Bobby") and "Grandma" comes out like "Baba," but we're still happy you're making the effort. And I think we're all secretly amused that at least twice every day you'll take off crawling up the stairs, yelling, "Ic! Ic!" Nic isn't always there to answer you, but when he is there you're the only person in the house who always gets a smile, even if he's in the middle of sleeping the day away. You're something special, my little muffin man. Even my brother knows it.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 1/09/2005 09:25:00 p.m.