I've been wanting to note all the things you've been doing now that you are the ripe old age of one-and-some. I've wanted to talk about the curls of hair forming at the nape of your neck and your still-blue eyes. I know these traits are likely to change.
I wanted to remind myself how long your legs look to me now, and how startling that is because your sister, my only real measure of comparison, seemed much smaller at this age.
All these things change from week to week, month to month, year to year. I've wanted to get them all down before I forget. But life keeps getting in the way. There are all manner of things that must get done: Laundry. Doctors' appointments. Mundane tasks and everyday chores. It's easy to forget.
It will also be soon that we won't be calling you "Goofy toof," I'm just a little sad to say as now your top-right front tooth is deciding to decend, soon to even out your smile.
I've wanted to talk about the stream of gab you garble, and the speed at which you get from here to there. I want to remember how you toss a ball and "play fetch."
I know I will forget these things in time.
I may not forget the screams of unhappiness from earlier in the month, but I know I will forget how you shriek with joy as you run into my arms, bringing me the ball I tossed in your direction.
We humans have a tendency to remember the many challenges but few of the rewards.
I probably won't forget how frightened I was that you would stop nursing, now that the wiggly phase has set in.
I probably won't forget how you started to climb this month; taking every opportunity to teeter on the rickety stepstool and peer into the sink. Or how you turned diaper changes into an aversive sport.
I won't forget how it occured to me that when you say 'Daddy' you run to him with a smile but when you say 'Mama' you are merely looking at food.
I won't forget the understanding that your days of sleeping in my arms will be gone and the muscle memory forgotten.
But I also know I won't soon forget how you ran laps with the doll stroller around the kitchen island (though in time, I'm sure you won't mind if I do let that slip from my memory bank.) I won't forget how cute you looked in overalls or how much you love to run around without them (or anything) holding you back.
And I won't ever forget the kisses you started giving me with great exuberance. How could I ever forget that?