Ezra is amazing.
It’s such a crazy age, right around now. He wants to be everywhere, at once, and he usually succeeds. Nothing is interesting for more than a few seconds. He loves food one day and hates it the next. He has a constant death grip on one of my fingers and he never wants to be alone and he wants to play in the cat food or bang things on the tv or stand at the front door and jiggle the knob (He can reach the knob now? Wait, what? When did this happen?). He’s teething, like all the time, 24/7, hardcore. It makes him fussy and whimpery, but he’s handling it way better than I would, so I can’t even complain. I don’t want him to watch much tv, you know, but sometimes I just wish he would anyway. I wish I could just curl up on the couch with him and watch—I don’t even care. Thomas and Friends or Dora or whatever, anything, just so we could sit still for more than 30 seconds. But TV is so boring, mom!, and there’s a ball of loose cat fuzz on the carpet that needs to be inspected and DVDs that need be thrown off the shelf and…here we go, nonstop party time, and didn’t you know, naps are for babies, mom!, let’s go go go!
But, goodness, he’s just delightful. He’s finally starting to walk, little cautious steps, looking for approval the whole way. He stops to clap for himself after a few steps and squeals with delight. He’s so happy, so loving, so sweet. So full of excitement and laughter. He sings along and dances and claps whenever he hears music. He plays pat-a-cake games and chases the cats down so he can hug them and he growls like a monster when we’re having tickle fights. He’s a charmer, a total flirt with the grandmas in the grocery store aisles. He loves staring at our faces and trying to figure out where the nose is, the eyes, the mouth… he loves his belly button and he loves having his head rubbed and his ears cleaned. He’s obsessed with brushing his teeth, or at least with chewing on the toothbrush for hours.
And sometimes, right in the middle of the baby-step-taking, cat-chasing, teeth-brushing, dirt-eating, breathless-laughing, living-room-destroying, nonstop BabyPartyFest, he comes up to me and wraps his little arms around me and plants a big juicy kiss on my face and buries his head in my neck, and…yeah. I knew when I had a kid that I would love him like crazy of course, but I didn’t expect it to come in fits and starts like this. One minute you’re on the ground playing with a toy car and trying to figure out what to make for dinner and thinking about how tired you are and all the bills that need to paid and who’s going to clean the dishes and and and… and then bam, a tiny crazy monkey baby is dangling from your neck and mushing his face up against yours and suddenly you can’t even breathe because you’re heart is just exploding right out of your chest.