PSF: My Little Dude

A mere 18 months ago I peered into a set of dark eyes surrounded by wrinkles and peach fuzz.

Last night I peered into a set of deep blue eyes surrounded by smooth creamy skin smeared with a mixture of chocolate cake, frosting and banana (Yes, I look for any excuse to make cupcakes).

What a beautiful face. What a huge mess . . .

Although I see glimpses of that newborn baby that I cradled in my arms, today I see more the boy he is slowly turning out to be. I am full of all sorts of bittersweet amazement.

I have a toddler now. A TODDLER.

And nothing can truly prepare you for living with a toddler. Well, except two months alone in the Amazon jungle with the constant chatter of monkeys, the jabs and pokes of the greenery, the rough terrain of the near-untouched land, the never ending fear of the unknown, and the constant desire to dry off or to take a shower (with soap). That might give you an idea . . . MIGHT.

And all that said, I so completely and utterly dig this little dude. Here is just a sampling of why . . .

1. His hugs. Man can this kid hug! He comes running, full force, throwing his arms around you and burying his head in your shoulder. He hugs with his entire body. He's like a warm coat you just don't want to take off.

2. His laugh. His giggles are still that of a baby. They are light and airy and coated in sweetness. Until you do something silly. Like reenact an episode of The Three Stooges. He is enamored with ridiculousness. If you drop something, he laughs. You stumble, he laughs. You fall, he cracks up with this deep giggle that resonates from his belly and curls up in your ears. I'd fall all day long to hear that laugh. ALL DAY.

3. His words. OK. Although I talk to J all day long, we read, we sing, we play . . . he's not much of a talker. Of the English language, that is. He jabbers all day long. But either I am not well versed in "baby" or he is literally speaking another language. But let me tell you, when a perfectly formed word springs from those lips, it is like someone dropped gold in my lap. Lots and lots of gold. In the matter of the last couple days it is like a switch has turned on and I am hearing more and more words. Up. Down. Car. WOOF. Dog. Cat. An expletive I swear I never taught him . . . (I think he's trying to say "funny duck"--at least I hope that's what he's trying to say).

4. His brains. He is taking after his dad. No doubt. He's been sorting shapes for months. He stacks blocks, building towers as tall as he is only to knock them down. He pulls things a part and puts them back together. He can sort his Legos into color piles and like items into bins. Brilliance in action, I say (and if this is totally normal for his age, don't tell me. He still tries to eat weird and gross things off the ground so I need something to hold onto).

5. His heart. Several months ago we found that if we put our hands over our eyes and "cry" he will come running, remove your hands and check to see if you are OK. Once he sees your eyes he moves in for a comforting hug. He hears crying, whether a baby at the mall or a woman on TV and a look of concern creeps across his face. YET, when he cries he just shakes it off. My little tough guy with a heart.

and here are a few other fun facts . . .

6. He clearly possesses the skills to one day work in covert ops. From sneaking sips of his dad's Mountain Dew and emptying a box of cereal (that used to be up high on the counter) to tearing apart a roll of toilet paper and ripping open all the mail (that was in a drawer in the desk), he knows what he wants, performs reconnaissance and then goes for it. He's got skills.

7. He loves chocolate. Dang it. My competition.

8. He develops infatuations with strange items. One minute it is a small Elmo finger puppet (normal) and the next it is an emptied bottle of travel-sized hand sanitizer. I don't get it.

9. I'm pretty sure he's made the decision to become a vegetarian. Either that or the mass/distance ratio of the flight plan of a piece of meat is more interesting then actually eating it.

10. He is FAST. I was a record-setter in high school track. I competed (and won a lot) at the college level. I've been running nearly my entire life. I am FAST. Or. I WAS fast. This kid is can have me heaving in a matter of seconds. And the minute those little feet touch ground . . . watch out!

And finally . . . I love this face. This face that belongs to the boy that cracks me up, makes me smile, swells my heart, brings tears to my eyes, fills my heart with fear and worry, but most of all . . . makes it all worth it.

Only 18 months. I can't imagine 18 years, yet I know we'll be here in no time.


Love. This. Face.

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