Let us just say, because I am behind on these, that this was the month you:
- Clapped your hands for the very first time.
- Learned to sit securely on a moving skateboard pushed across the length of living room by your ever attentive, always encouraging brother / mentor, Rex.
- And flat out refused anybody, other than me, that sought to touch or hold you.
Like the switch of a light you woke nine months and decided it was me and me alone you wanted. Crying when I walked away to answer the door, reaching desperatly, furiously for me even in the familiar arms of your father when I went to hand you over. Heartbroken anytime I plopped you down to help your brothers.
Luckily, it passed.
Somewhat.
So you have returned to accepting (at times) the smiles and arms of others.
But in all the plight and exhaustion that came with trying to sooth a baby who decided, on a whim that he was the only one I might need hold or tend to, it was still hard to stay frustrated very long at boy who saw you as the sun, the stars and the moon no matter what or where on the day you stood to offer.
