Dear Jack,

Today you are 15 months old. I'm still rocking and nursing you to sleep and even though at times I think maybe we should transition, I am fiercely protective of those moments. Even the long, drawn out, please-for-the-love-of-all-that-is-good-will-you-just-close-your-eyes moments. Moments when I can hold you close and smell your breath and hear you sigh. I think these are the things I will recall ten years from now, not the things like you biting my clavicle.

This month is a blur for the most part, but as I've tried to remember some of the things that have happened, I keep thinking of all the new ways you entertain us. You have taken peekaboo to a new level and like to hide behind us and jump out. Instead of "boo," you say "DUH!" You give hugs spontaneously (and with a little direction)and have started to comply when I ask you to close your mouth before you give me a kiss. You are a trickster and love to make people laugh. You seem to know when you've done a good job and you'll start the applause that you're sure is going to erupt from your audience at any moment.

About a week ago, you started tap dancing. Yes, your personal progression through the various genres of dance has amazed your mom. You stood up in the bathtub after the water had drained one night and started tap-tap-tapping. It's a little more Michael Flatley than Gene Kelly, but you wear a huge grin all the while. Born to dance, it seems. Not so much like either of your parents in that department.

You've really started moving with a lot of grace. You squat amazing well and keep your balance as you teeter on the edge of chairs, stools, toys. It seems pointless to try and keep you on the ground at all times. If it is there, you will climb it. No matter what it is. You sometimes jump when you are dancing and I think it surprises you. When you try to jump on purpose, you look like a penguin, flapping wings that will never take you off the ground.

The word "babble" doesn't really describe what you do. You're one of the kids with your own language. You will state something with such force, and even repeat yourself at times. I usually don't know what you are saying. You certainly do. You are parroting more of our words lately and your receptive language is great. You know what so many things are, and you know who people are in pictures and in person. I can see you staring at lips and trying to mimic what you see. Sometimes you get the vowel sounds right and leave the consonants for another time.

This month I cut your hair. I had immediate pangs of regret. Your little mullet and wings are gone! The heart aches. Now, though, the shorter 'do is you. You look like a boy now. There is still some baby there, in your cheeks and the chub of your wrists, but your legs are long and muscular and your neck is emerging strong. Your shoe size is seven! You're wearing 2T clothes. Such a big boy.

You have had some of your worst separation anxiety over the last month, but you also started doing a lot more on your own. "Reading" books in the corner. Playing with your bath toys. Sliding down slides.


I see how things are changing so fast and I know your independence is blossoming. I don't need to kick you out of the nest. But I also won't clip your wings. I want you to remain an adventurer and an explorer. I want you to continue to try and fail and try again. I want you to succeed.

I want you to know, always, always, that I will be here for you.

Mama

p.s. always.