There once was a time when you were so small and fragile.
I see tiny babies now and wonder at their perfect smallness, tiny toes and noses.
I am in awe of their stillness and silence; their little wiggles. their quietude. their serenity.
For you are no longer any of those things.
You are noise and motion. You are smash and bang, run and climb.
You are big and tall and all boy. Rough and tumble.
You know baa for sheep and say rar-rar for doggies, and hhhhaaaaa when things are hot.
Other than that you are a man of few words, too busy finding things to get into!
Even "Hannah" has been dropped from the vocab, which is weird because you used to say her name 100 times a day. Literally. There is plenty of
You are into everything you should not be into, which isn't always so funny, but that's okay too.
I sometimes think we might lose it, like when you start hauling on our (massive and very expensive) tv,
or when you pull dirt out of the plant for the fifth time that day.
But it's hard to be mad when you look at me with that cute little scrunched up face you make,
or when that bottom lip starts to poke out and those baby blues start to well up.
The expressions on your little face, the earthquaking sounds that emit from your tiny body, the swiftness that you get into things, the giggles and even the odd squeal that i've heard recently, it's all hilarious.
And I wouldn't change any of it for the world.