Being One and a Half is
One sock on, one sock off at all times
Bed head and bare toes
Assuming everything is a step stool (including me and your dad) on your journey to places you aren’t allowed to go. We were counting on your shortness sir…
The phrases Gentle please. Do you need a hug? Uh oh timeout. and Be kind with your hands. on repeat
An affinity for anything that rolls or bounces
Boycotting kisses but begging for tickles and being tossed onto anything that resembles a bed. One…two…THREE!
Climbing up into my lap with a book and snuggling in with the confidence that I will never say no to this.
Finding treasure in crunchy leaves and tiny pebbles
Throwing your arms around the dog, completely undeterred by his refusal to acknowledge your existence.
Piercing shrieks of horror at anything that does not comply with your wishes.
Lying in my lap, looking up at the ceiling and babbling in a language only I’ve come to understand.
Your sing songy little voice.
The stockpile of half eaten Arrowroot Crackers under your dresser.
Your unnatural friendliness to strangers and your ability to make all adults love you.
Refusing hugs on the regular but offering them at unexpected times (like when I’m hunched over, cleaning the toilet).
Jam between the fingers. Always.
Regardless of your disdain for physical affection, there will never be a night I don’t sneak into your room, lift you from the crib and rock you in our chair while you sleep. Don’t think I don’t notice the slight smile on your lips little man, it’s how I know that you’re still my baby.