Teetering on Toddlerdom

Two days shy of his 11-month birthday I think it's safe to say Jack is more than ready to leave his old identity behind.

No more can "baby" or "infant" be applied to this evolving mass of opinion and preference. Gone are the days of quiet acquiesce and acceptance. Instead I am met each day I come home from work by this miniature little person, with his own ideas on where he should be and what he should or should not be doing at any given moment. Motor skills are advancing at a rapid pace, and the days of blindly waving hands in the direction of my face have been replaced with lightning fast weapons that reach for my glasses with laser precision. An infatuation with anything electronic or glowing has so far increased my phone bill (how he manages to call numbers I don't have stored in the phone is beyond me), run my remote batteries to the ground, and left a fine layer of slobber and cookie over my keyboard.

Admittedly, some of the cookie crumbs might be mine, but I'm 70% sure the slobber and drool aren't.

Okay, maybe 60% sure.

It's a truly amazing time, and the Missus and I marvel every day that so far it looks like not only have we managed not to break him or cause any serious malfunction, but that he appears to be thriving. Like a weed sometimes, to be sure, but thriving nonetheless.

However you have to take the bad with the good, and a growing intellect matched with growing motor skills has its own set of dangers and problems. We joke about his perpetual crown of bruises from repeated attempts to lunge from the television cabinet to his toy kitchen, or from his hilarious attempts to stand up by way of kicking his legs up like a mule. Getting him into high chairs and car seats has become an almost Olympian event. And last night we got to witness his first (to my knowledge) full blown nightmare, complete shaking, breathing in ragged gasps, and generally inconsolable for almost an hour. All the things that accompany someone growing up into a full blown person.

As for my own sanity, the amount of gray hair I have has tripled, while the physical amount of hair I have has halved. Sleep, if it comes at all, comes in spurts and never last longer than a few hours and the freedom to engage in any activities only come in the blessed moments of naps or once he's off to bed. My focus for anything other than watching to make sure Jack doesn't or put something in his mouth he should is practically nonexistent. Romance, you ask? Surely you jest...

But would I change anything?

Again, sirs and madams...surely you jest.

(well okay, maybe I'd ask for some of the hair back)