Little Man

My little guy is 16 months old now.  I’ve joked lately that he is crossing in to the dark side as his little being is becoming more and more irrational.  Toddlerhood is upon him.  An increased wine budget with a more lax it’s-ok-to-start-drinking-time is upon his Momma.

The package that is my one year old is hilarious, inspiring, testing, heart-warming, exhausting and most of all just plain naughty!  I give you this:

My son thinks emptying/dumping anything be it milk, a plate full of food that has been all cut up and cooled down, a basket full of blocks I just picked up, a laundry basket of clean clothes, a new box of diapers, the dog’s food dish or water bowl, etc is the funniest thing he does all day.  The only thing funnier to him is wiggling out of my diaper changing Mommy hold and running his naked little butt away from me.

The naughtiness is now accompanied by a mischievous, I know I got you wrapped smile.  I give you this:

If the little man is not in eye sight or ear shot, I can bank on finding him quietly exploring whatever has landed on the dining room table.  And that is the smile I get when he has been spotted.

A Mom friend came over the other day and upon entering, cracked up laughing at our Christmas tree.  Can you figure out why?

Pardon the poor quality, once the kids go to bed very little is encouraging enough to get off the couch.  I chose zoom to avoid it this time.  I think I still managed to catch the essence of having a one year around at Christmas time though.  Even the shatter proof blue balls were moved up because Mommy thinks they may shatter the window if it’s tested one more time.

My little guy is ridiculously fast.  In the time it took for me to empty my bladder (I pee with the quickness out of fear), he accomplished this:

He was lucky those weren’t the expensive snot snatchers!

“Mr. Little Man”, as his awesome but sometimes antagonistic big sister calls him, loooves to help his Momma do chores.  Let me show you what that looks like:

He also likes to help us bake.  Or at least hold on to his favorite ingredients.  That is until we need them and then he runs as fast as his Mom and Dad on date night.  This was him “helping” last time before he enacted an all out baby chase scene.

Most of all, Momma’s baby boy just holds down his gig of melting my heart.  He smiles and his eyes sing.  I’m working on trying to focus on those notes and not so much on the sheer thread my sanity is hanging by.