Today is my youngest kid’s 15 month-day. Which is totally a thing. Because- again- he’s my youngest kid.
I love this little man and his braced stance, cautious smile, and general demeanor that’s pretty much summed up as “pleasantly surprised.”
No one’s knocking me to the ground in a bear-hug attack! I am pleasantly surprised!
Lunch was served to me at a decent lunch-ish hour (while others were actually eating, too)! I am pleasantly surprised!
Daytime eye contact?! I AM PLEASANTLY SURPRISED!
15 months is cool. It’s understanding that- even if no one comes to get you immediately upon waking from a nap- they’ll be there soon. It’s doing an excited bounce when someone mentions the words “graham crackers” in another room (under her breath). And it’s the enmeshed scents of kinda-still-baby skin with decidedly dirt-ish aromas.
Each night, I want to thank him for letting me nibble his face and chase him around the room and hear all of those helium-escaping belly laughing sounds. So I do. I thank him loudly enough to make him giggle, and quietly enough to ensure it actually sinks in.
(I love you, boy child.)
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