Catorce

Fourteen months old. Seriously? My baby, my boy, is fourteen months old now. He looks older and acts older, and I can't help but feel a little older myself lately with all the energy this guy expounds. Up the stairs, down the stairs, inside then outside. He's everywhere, and I am always trailing a few steps behind him. I love, love, love what a sweet little adventurer he has become. I can't think of anything cuter than when he kicks his heels into our hips as if to say 'Giddyup!' so that we will help him chase the other parent in his favorite game of tag. He does everything with a little extra thought now, most often with some form of premeditation tinged with impishness. He's such a goob.

He had his first big fall the other day. Every once and a while the kiddo will end up in our bed by the morning, and when this happens I will quietly ease myself out from next to him when I leave for my morning shower. I know that if I say something to BL to signal my absence either BL will make a noise and wake the MR or the MR will wake at my voice itself. So I have been playing an unsafe gamble that BL will be aware I am gone and/or MR will not stray to close or over the edge. I lost that bet the other morning when the kiddo did get too close to the edge and did roll off. My poor baby now has a few small bruises on his little cheek to show for my carelessness. Sure I didn't actively contribute to his tumble, but I also didn't work proactively to prevent it. I also know that this is only a sign of bumps and bruises to come. *Sigh*

Happy fourteen months, my big bruiser boy.