I’ve got one month left.
One month to call him my “infant”.
One month (give or take) before those itty bitty feet start walking.
B is one month away from being 12 months old. One whole year! I know I say this all the time, but where has the past 11 months gone? I feel like he should have arrived yesterday. I can’t remember him being an infant, like he should still be an infant. I look at pictures and wonder when they were taken. How could that have been so long ago? How are we already into our fourth season?
But, alas, what I am holding on to is no longer. He is no longer an infant. He is turning into a big boy. He is becoming independent. However, as the mother of a three year old, I know B is no where near the independent boy he will soon become.
He waves bye bye.
When told “NO” he shakes his head from side to side. Sometimes while smiling. (There is that independent thing I was talking about!)
He says “uh-oh” after dropping something.
He loves music. Starts bobbing up and down the minute he hears it.
He walks behind his Mickey plane.
He will climb on ANYTHING. Stairs are his favoirite!
He loves to throw the ball and loves to hit golf balls. It’s amazing to me that he actually can hit them! I mean, they don’t go far, but the fact that he makes contact…I think that is pretty cool.
And last Friday when we went to the Dr, he weighed in at 22lbs!! I LOVE every inch of him.