You have places to go. People to eat.
Your brother, when he was your age, would be fine plopped down on a blanket with a toy to chew on. Not you. Oh no. You have no desire to stay still. You roll around the entire room. You try to eat the cat. The cat loves it. We have to separate the two of you regularly.
You hate to be tied down. You hate all of your snowsuits. You hate socks. You hate the car. You have the get-up-and-go of a toddler. Yet you cannot toddle. You try to squirm off of our laps. Yet you cannot stand. You just learned to sit up around your 6 month birthday, which falls on the same date as your neighbor, Hymen’s real birthday, which means you will both have cake on your half-birthdays for as long as we live near each other.
You still love to watch your brother. Now you try to eat him. Now you sometimes pull his hair. He just laughs. (After he screams.) Sometimes, your brother makes you crack up into screeches of hysteria so cute, Mommy and Mama try not to explode.
You keep Mommy so busy she barely has time to blog. Like right now. Are you waking up? Will Mommy have time to write about how you love your grrrrls at daycare –yes, you are the only boy in the baby room — a man among women. How you totally dig watching all the butterflies and hearts and swirly things they have hanging from the ceiling there?
No, no she will not.
Gotta go, Love,