You are one! It is hard to believe that a year ago today we met you for the first time—you strong, healthy baby whose heart-rate tracings were always the best of the best when we spent that month together in the hospital, before you were born. It’s hard to remember a time when you weren’t with us.
You are a determined, happy little sweetie. You laugh loud and often and have begun demonstrating your happiness with an ear-splitting scream. You exhibit your gap-toothed smile liberally, charming friends and others. You seem to have very little fear of strangers, though if you suddenly look up and find yourself surrounded by strangers with me nowhere in sight, you burst into tears. (This has happened approximately twice, during our playgroup, when I’ve simply stepped out of your line of vision for a moment.) You seem, for the most part, fearless—trying to climb slides and steps that are far too large for you, crawling at top speed toward whatever catches your eye.
All you want is to keep up with your sister. You’re getting old enough now that you can play, in some ways, or at least chew on the toys Lucia is playing with. You love walking around with your toy stroller, though you can’t go very fast yet. The other day you were following Lucia, who was pushing her own stroller, when suddenly you began crying mournfully. I couldn’t figure out why you were upset—but then Lucia stopped, turned around, and said, “I will wait for you, Greta.” You immediately stopped crying, determinedly pushed your stroller along toward Lucia, and the stroller-train continued.
You still eat vast quantities of food. This morning—the morning of your birthday—you ate a large bowl of Fage yogurt mixed with two tablespoons of applesauce; half an apple; and two pancakes. For lunch you had an entire tofu and cream cheese sandwich. You ate an entire slice of your birthday carrot cake. Dinner was cheese cubes, four sliced grapes, half a piece of toast, and a good serving of rotisserie chicken.
It’s no wonder, then, that you seem to be skipping the 12-month size of clothes entirely. You outgrew your 9-month summer things, but the 12-month pants make your legs look like little sausages, and they all stop short of your ankles. You are sneaky, littlest one. You know that if you grow into a size in a different season than Lucia wore it in, you’ll get your own brand-new wardrobe. All of our 18-month clothes are summer clothes, so you now get some new winter clothes of your own. You are growing like a cute little weed.
You are still nursing, but you’re definitely losing interest, and I have a feeling that weaning you won’t be too hard at all. You’re still waking up once a night, but sleeping to a decent 7:00am. You love taking baths. You are nearly impossible to dress and diaper-change, twisting and fussing and writhing—you are an easygoing baby in all areas but this.
You have a Bibi now—a white-with-teddy-bears sleepsack, just like your sister’s. You sleep with it, and carry it around, and snuggle it when you lift it to your face. If you see it on the ground, you crawl right over to it. When I put you into your crib, you cover your face with it, resulting in a little tug of war as I try to put it into a safer spot before I leave the room.
You’re coming into your own, sweet one. You took three tiny tiny steps this week, to get a puzzle piece of a donkey that Daddy was holding out, and true walking can’t be far off. I can’t wait till you start talking and we can see what’s going on in that quick little mind. In the meantime, we can just enjoy holding you, our snuggly baby bundle. We can’t imagine our family without you.
Favorite activities: pushing the toy stroller up and down the driveway, playing in the playhouse, putting things into bags/boxes/buckets, carrying around the wooden dollhouse dolls, pulling newspapers out of the newspaper pile, emptying the recycling bags like a raccoon, throwing (sort of) balls, snuggling various stuffed animals, run-cruising along the couch and scream-laughing as I “chase” you
Favorite books: Brown Bear Brown Bear What Do You See, Duck and Goose Find a Pumpkin, 123 Ducks, Goodnight Gorilla, Pat the Bunny, Barnyard Dance, Snuggle Puppy, Bunny’s Noisy Book, Moo Baa La La La, Goodnight Moon
This blog began in 2006, when I quit my job and sold all my furniture to move to Barcelona with Andrew, skipping town blissfully and dramatically; then we skipped town again, to California, and then, finally, back to Brooklyn. Now I'm in a rambling old house in the suburbs, with two babies and a husband and the suspicion that we won’t be skipping town again anytime soon—at least not the kind of skipping town that involves packing boxes and moving trucks.