Bouncing Baby Boy

To be honest, I'm not sure that we'll ever stop calling Jack "Baby Jack". He's really not a baby anymore but the name just somehow suits him (that and Buddy. He responds better to either nickname better than to "Jack" alone). He is one huge ball of lovable, squeezable, huggable sweetness... most of the time. He also has this very toddlerish, devilish side of him. He knows how to push Molly's buttons like it's his job (which it may be). His weapon of choice? Pulling her hair. I wish I was mean enough to snap a picture of his face when he's grabbed a giant fistful of her blonde locks and she's yelping because it's priceless. He just opens those big eyes and gives me this look of "what, hmmm, me? Your sweet little boy?" I hate to see either of my babies in pain, of course, but I love the fact that he is standing up for himself. I will, of course, work on more appropriate ways to display his displeasure and we do tell him not to pull on the yellow frizz but this little, youngest sibling part of me says to go get those meany older siblings (please ask for my annotated index of the ways I was persecuted as the youngest child and only girl... just kidding. While I can recite the times my brothers were mean to me, I really had it pretty good).

There are other ways he's showing me that he's no longer my little baby. While he's not big on human words (other than mama, dada, hi, uh-oh, "mo" for more, recently "Ma" for Molly, and the weirdest animal sounds on the planet), he totally gets what's going down in these parts and can do baby signs pretty well. Because Molly talked on the early side (have I ever mentioned that she hasn't stopped talking? Have I?) and she was able to tell me me a fair amount at this age, I didn't realize how much Jack was understanding even if he isn't telling me anything other than what a sick goat must sound like. This kid actually listens to me! I love it!

Baby Jack has had lots going on in his life lately -- he is getting his final canine, which is thankfully his last tooth before his two year molars. Those things hit him hard. He has a giant buddah belly that he likes to keep full and round. He toddles around like a weeble and is surprisingly fast. He still falls all the time  because he's trying to keep up with the first monkey and his center of gravity is wacky because of his giant head, his enormous belly, and his copious amounts of drool. He is a master spotter of all things transportation related. Buses, planes, fire trucks -- I don't even see these things half the time until I hear his little squeak and see his desperate pointing at whatever he sees. Trains and trucks -- real or pretend -- are totally rad in his book. And speaking of books, he's suddenly into reading materials especially if they involve finger puppets, Sandra Boynton, songs, or rhymes. Tomorrow, I'm signing him up for Hop on Pop anonymous. So, between climbing, falling, vehicle spotting/playing/sound effecting, reading, and walking toy dogs/frogs/alligators, his world is full. He is sweet and happy until he gets really, really mad about being hungry or having to get down from some perch or another and then holy smokes, let the drama begin -- the full out, prone on the floor, eyes squeezed shut until he peeps on open to make sure someone is witnessing this master performance, kind of drama. Still, it's all okay because what mom doesn't have a soft spot for her little boy and his antics? He's a funny, funny little dude and loves, loves, loves to laugh -- he has a belly laugh that can fill even his giant belly.

The toddler side of him is becoming more front and center as the baby part of him recedes a little more each day. I'm not ready to let it all go, though, and am soaking up his cuddles and his baby-ness in a way I don't think I did with Molly. With Jack, it's really hit home how fleeting each stage really is since I've suddenly got this 16 month old in front of me who walks, talks (a little), and is fully of funny laughs.