my little boy.
racing towards twenty months now. i can barely believe he is so big.
when he was just tiny, i knew he was just right. so lovable and kissable. i loved having a newborn. and then a two month old and even a six month old. i loved every minute of his roly poly stages and watching him learn to crawl, wondering when he'd take his first steps. so precious and perfect. back then, i wasn't so sure about toddlers. weren't toddlers messy and naughty and wild? all i knew were the classic stories. i couldn't picture my life with a toddler, so i went about enjoying the babe in arms phase.
suddenly, in a time frame that seemed so gradual and yet also fast paced, my babe in arms is running towards me, climbing into my lap, attempting somersaults and peering outside, knocking his little fist upon the window, and waving daddy a hello as he steps out of the car. he is all about the adventure in a walk to the mailbox, a discovery in the grocery store, an intent curiousness in the kitchen drawers, a giddiness in my vacuuming, a seriousness for driving trucks, a hiccuping laugh in a tickle torture, always a sparkle in his eye. still lovable and kissable. and yet, he fits into big people clothes. well, comparatively. he drinks from a cup, tosses a ball and stacks blocks by himself. next thing i know, he will be buckling his own seat belt and tying his own shoes.
now i know. having a toddler is awesome. he knows the funny parts in his storybooks and chuckles before we even read that part. he understands when the mixer is whirring it means he'll get to lick the beater. he jumps up and down on his mattress with fury, like the last little monkey about to bump his head. he will do just about anything for a pouch of fruit snacks. he knows where his tummy, ears, nose and head are. he even knows about shutting the closets carefully, not pinching small fingers. he spoons his yogurt into his mouth, always using his left hand. he knows about our goal of not tasting crayons or play-doh anymore. the little back pocket flaps on his jeans just kill me. and his efforts in toothbrushing amaze. as does his abilities with the blusher brush. he knows the routine of our day and is such a content little fellow to go with the flow. he remembers the fish pond at the library and the eagle statue at daddy's office and even the giant plastic horse that is on top of that one building. pointing to it always, as we drive by, reminding me about the bizarre horse and making me smile as i peek into the rear view mirror seeing his outstretched excited arm.
on long roadtrips, he'll bend his elbows and tuck his palms behind his head; like an old man lying in a hammock. or he'll bounce his legs to the beat, if we're playing something groovy. perhaps he'll start drumming his lips. as if to say, mom, are we there yet!? he is always my best company, my favorite tiny pal to share costco samples with or ask rhetorical questions to. and of course this one is always ready with a big yep anytime i ask a yes or no question. a very agreeable young chap. that is, until it's time for a haircut.
the other week i took him in to get a haircut. we made a day of it. the salon was doing a charity drive for kids cuts; movies, lollipops, balloons, the works. perfect, i thought. he inherited his papa's full head of hair and–as it goes–his papa's aversion to getting it cut. thus, the ten dollar balloon and a nicely combed head of hair.
we headed home with balloon on wrist, sticky fingers, and tear-stained cheeks. to calm him down, i sat him in front of curious george on a big beach towel. determined, i got my sharp small scissors out and snipped slowly around the edges, attempting to shape it up (i've been known to bravely cut hair before, but have never had a successful man's cut on my resume). i stopped myself before giving him steps at the sideburns, what my brother used to get every year in middle school. no tears, no freak out, no wiggling, no hysteria. calm, cool and collected; the boy i know and love. i told him he was one very good boy and into the bath he went for yet another wash off. a reward in itself.
as i've learned with toddlers, they love their baths and seem to live life more messily in order to get more chances to splash. we'd already bathed him before the fancy haircut. there was all sorts of breakfast foods rubbed in his hair which i doubted the stylist would appreciate. benji has decided that food tastes a lot better after a ritual of rubbing it in his hair. yogurt, yes. ketchup, yes. applesauce, yes. syrup, yes. after all that effort i've decided i'll be taking the stylist's advice; maybe he just needs to go shaggy for the summer. yes ma'am.
thank goodness for little boys.
even little toddling boys.
still very much my bundle of joy.
