The evidence:
Instead of drooling on books, he picks a specific one out of the stack, pulls it out, brings it over to me, and thrusts it in my face so that I'll read it to him. He arranges himself in my lap, turns the pages, and points to every wheel, dog, and sun or moon.
When we tell him "it's bathtime," he'll scurry into the bathroom, push his stack of cups and rubber turtle into the (as yet empty) bathtub, and try to start hoisting his little leg over the edge.
When I turn on Mozart or when he pushes the button on his musical refrigerator magnet that plays farm animal songs, he bounces and shakes his booty.
When I say "I'm gonna git you," he runs, giggling, to the other side of the room, and then turns and looks at me, waiting to get tickled. When I put a toy truck on my head and pretend it's a hat, he cracks up.
He has curly blond hair covering his whole head.
Every day is more fun than yesterday, but where did my little baby go?
Oh my gosh, that is very convincing evidence.
ReplyDeleteOkay, I will cry with you.
I know, I know! It is so bittersweet, watching these little people develop. He's a sweetie!
ReplyDelete