My son is fifteen months old. I am his usual companion, from our morning routine to getting him home from daycare, giving him dinner, and recognizing when he’s ready for bed. So you’d assume that I’m pretty familiar with him.
I know his schedule. I know if he’s upset it’s probably due to one of three reasons. I know what songs put him to sleep. I’ve learned how to coexist successfully with a tiny, needy, noisy human.
Baby C and I obviously have been getting used to each other for awhile now, but the rate at which he’s communicating, moving, and interacting with his environment has been simply impressive over the past few weeks.
I feel like he’s becoming his own small version of a person.
Together, we love books.
We celebrate his walking successes as a family.
I love learning what makes him laugh (peekaboo, sharing his snacks, playing bee stings, the opening credits of movies), what calms him (music, reading, rocking), and what makes him smile with glee (seeing Daddy or the cat).
He encourages me to work on my patience. He reminds me of the lightness in silliness and playing, and never ceases to be soothed by my terrible singing.
I guess it’s time I start to feel like I know my son – is it normal for that process to take this long??
I just feel like there’s a difference between barely surviving each day with a baby, and being able to (generally) enjoy the time spent together.
How can I not enjoy the slobbery grin on his face and accompanying squeal when I get him up in the morning?
I better enjoy it now because I am positive teenage Baby C will not have the same reaction 🙂