Michael,
In another month, you will be a year old.
I can’t stand it. How fast time has run from me.
On the other hand, you aren’t running yet. You stand now, and you have taken half-steps. I am simultaneously delighted and excited (for you) and terrified (for me). Old story.
For awhile, you were sleeping beautifully at night. Lately, though, notably the last two nights, you have decided that 1 a.m. is an excellent time for another bottle and a snuggle with mama. Mama loves the snuggle, buddy, but would like to return to normal snuggling hours (i.e. before 8 p.m.) and go back to sleeping through the night. Okay? Okay.
One more month of your infancy. One more month of your enthusiatic crawling toward me whenever I come into sight. You’re going to move onto concentrating on moving those feet, and I know it will make us all (your sisters and dad, too) cheer and laugh.
As long as you continue to come to me and throw your little arms around my neck, all will be well.
And learn that my name is “Mama.” You’re getting there, little man. You’re getting there.
Red Pen Mama 