Nostalgia

My baby, the little one, is now technically a toddler. At 9 months, 3 weeks he has decided that walking is the thing to do. I tried to keep him segregated from bi-pedal society as much as possible so he wouldn't get any ideas but he went right ahead and did what he wanted to anyway. In that regard he is joining the ranks of the rest of the household Y chromosomes, I suppose. Yesterday as I chased him out of RTs bedroom for the third time and pulled Oliver's finger from his nose for the hundredth time I thought to myself: "I just wish one person in this house would listen to what I say!" But then I guess I can't really blame them because most times I don't even listen to myself. Like when I say I really am going to cut back on the caffeine and drink more water. Or that I'm going to start checking to see if the toilet seat is up before I sit down in the middle of the night.

Anyway, between the walking and the two new (razor sharp) teeth, and the spate of sleepless nights leaving me unable to string together two sentences coherently, I'm feeling a bit of nostalgia for when my babies really were babies.

Take a look at how my first little guy has grown. And three cheers for my favorite letter Y.