On the brink

I never want to wish away Nico's new skills and healthy growing, but oh man, you guys...it's going so fast. Cliché ahoy, I know, but there it is. I find myself wishing that it took two years for kids to get to where they usually are at about one year of age, because as much fun as I have with each new stage, I am not quite prepared for my baby to turn into a toddler. He's on his way, though, and it's undeniable. I realize now that this is why people keep having babies. They're addictive, but their time as tinies is so fleeting.


Nico will be ten months old on Monday and suddenly in just the past two weeks has gone from his first word (Hi) to having five words:  Hi, Dog, Mama, Da (Dad), Bye. His hair is really filling in, especially in the back, and he's starting to get curls. He has almost outgrown the once-giant socks my mom bought for him when he was brand new and none of the tiny newborn socks fit his huge feet. He finger-feeds himself Cheerios and rice puffs like it's no big thing, and if MB leans down and makes smacking sounds, Nico will feed the puffs to him. None of this is revolutionary, I know, but it's the first time that a little person that I helped to make has ever fed himself Cheerios or waved to someone and cheerily said, "Ba!"


Yesterday he was crawling around on the floor pushing his Little People school bus and making engine noises. Two nights before that, he was sitting in the corner of his bedroom with a board book, turning the pages and babbling happily as if he was reading. My heart felt like it was going to pop out of my chest and fly away, it really did. He loves his board books, but he's extremely rough on them and will chew bits off if I don't keep an eye on him. I found a Little People barn in perfect condition at Goodwill for only $2 and ordered a replacement set of animals online. He didn't seem all that impressed by it the first week, but now he plays with it all the time, taking the animals out and putting them back in and tipping the whole barn over.


All he wants to do is go and do and be big, and I'm constantly catching at his ankle, begging him to wait, to be careful, to slow down. He's becoming a big boy, faster than I can keep up. He's still my baby, though, and I tell myself he will be for a while longer. I feel it when he curls up on my lap to nurse to sleep, when he naps on my chest in the mornings, when I go to comfort him in his crib at night and he stands with his arms around my neck as I bend over the rail, impossibly small in his pajamas and socks. I drink in all the baby moments I can, even while I celebrate his bigness.