Elevensies

The kiddo is eleven months old. Because I have been terrible at keeping up with his baby book, I will write this to document what an awesome, strange, challenging little person he is becoming.

The Ru is walking. Not well, but he is walking. He can be stood in the middle of the floor, and after standing there for a few seconds to think, he makes his move. Granted, it is only three or four steady steps until he collapses to the floor or into someone's arms, but it is walking. He gets steadier every day. And every time he walks, he laughs in a way that sounds like he is so tickled with himself. Check it out, yo, I'm mobile in a way that you were dreading, he seems to say. It is still surreal to see up upright and moving, almost as though there should be puppeteer strings moving his limbs. I guess it's time to get some shoes for the poor kid (at least ones that don't weigh a ton).

Can we talk about food for a moment? Because the magical days of going to the cupboard to grab a jar of that good ol' Earth's Best sweet potatoes are gone. No, I did not make my own baby food. I am proud of the people that do, but I simply have NO TIME. So Ruary happily ate the good stuff three times a day like a good boy. But things have changed... all of a sudden, he thinks that the cool kids REFUSE to eat baby food. Even the awesome chunky stage 3 stuff. One would think that, since he is refusing the stuff from the spoon, that he would want to feed himself. NO!!! Of course not. He CAN feed himself (I have watched that tiny thumb and forefinger grasp many a sweet yogurt puff or star cracker), he just doesn't want to feed himself things like green beans and avocados. Grrrrrrr. Mealtime, an event that used to be so fun, is now a dreaded chore.

Oh well. Perhaps now that he is interested in tougher foods, he may actually cut some more of those GD teeth. Or will he teethe forever? Chewing on a teething ring on his first day of ninth grade?

Beyond the challenges that my almost-one-year-old boy presents, he cracks me up. That sense of humor floors me. He laughs, A LOT. Even when he is whining, he takes a break every now and then to laugh at someone or something, even the blank wall (I suspect that it is his great grandma Rhoda pulling faces at him, but we can never know for sure!). He is also a lover. After what I thought was a lone incident wherein he mauled his cousin Marlee with kisses and hugs, he did it again. He spent his first afternoon at daycare last Friday, with a young lady his age named Evie. He hugged and hugged and hugged her until she said, in baby language, "No means NO!" and pushed him off. We're in trouble. Or rather, the young ladies of the class of 2027 are in trouble. We will have to do some serious boundaries training with this one, I'm afraid.

That's all I can think of at the moment, besides the tiny, random milestones that he seems to meet every day. I should really be writing more of those down.