Waylon: 15 Months

Son,

You are 15 months today. I feel kind of weird making it into some sort of thing whenever you turn another month old, but whatever. I guess it’s just what bloggers do. If you ever find yourself 30 years old, scratching your head, and wondering what you were up to at the ripe old age of 15 months…here you go.

You’re everywhere; behind the couch, up the stairs, under the table, stuck between the kitchen chairs. Over the past few months you’ve morphed into some sort of mess-making wizard. I fold the wash, you unfold it. I put away the dishes, you take them out. I get you squeaky clean, you decide it’s time to take a giant poo.

What else.

You’re kind of picky. You eat all the time but it’s always on your terms and depending on your mood. Some days you love eggs, other days you hate them. Some days you scream for black beans, the next day you throw them all over the kitchen floor. I feel like I’m in a really bad remake of The Devil Wears Prada, but whatever. I guess you’re just being a toddler.

There are some things you always love; raisins, pretzels, a sip of tea. Every night I give you a big bowl of oatmeal and blueberries and you always finish every last drop. It’s adorable. I don’t know why. A fifteen month old baby eating oatmeal is probably not adorable to most people.

You say some things. Mostly you just say “ball” and “fooball,” but you also manage farm animal noises and the predictable “mama” “dada” and “uh-ohhh.” You also love to fake sneeze. It’s weird.

Sleeping is going pretty well. You nap for two hours every day and are down for 10-12 hours every night. Sometimes you wake up during the night, but that’s okay. Dad pats your back if you cry for too long. Most times you quickly put yourself back to sleep. I’m so proud.

Things that are so cute I just about die:

+When you pretend talk on the phone and throw your head back for a fake laugh.

+How every time I say it’s time to say goodbye to dad/grandpa/the grocer, you pucker up for a kiss like America’s sweetheart.

+Your happy squeal and impatient dance when I mention the word “bath.”

+Your obsession with your shoes, my shoes, everyone’s shoes.

+The way you look in the morning; crazy hair, sleepy eyes, and the best smiles I’ve ever seen.

Oh my love. You get better every month.

xo

Mom

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20 comments

  1. I remember crying when Olivia was a newborn because I was so sad she was going to grow. We’re at 18 months and so far it just keeps getting better and better! I can’t imagine that will always be the case, but I’m happy for now.

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