A few moments I’d like to remember…

We stopped at the cafe at the community center to split an oatmeal cookie. You took your little piece and walked around the mostly empty space, stopping in front of the cash register, waiting for the barista to notice you. Once you had her eye, you lowered your chin to your chest (maintaining eye contact) and slowly walked backwards until you bumped up in between my legs. You draped one arm over each knee and lounged for a bit, never breaking your faux-shy stare, until you lost your audience. Then you requested your next cookie piece (via high-pitched hums and pointed stares) and repeated. And again.

We were playing in front of the mirror and I gave you a smooch while you watched backwards-me, and then I kissed backwards-me. You laughed and lunged at the mirror, resting your hands on it while you gave your reflection kisses, complete with sound effects (mmm-wah!) and lots of drool. LOTS of drool. It turned into kind of a make-out session.

You like to reach behind yourself, into the shopping cart at the grocery store, to see what goodies await. To the point where sometimes I have to hide everything on the under-cart mesh, lest we get home with baby teeth punctures all over the cheddar. Your favorite thing to pluck out of the basket is an apple. You work your way around it, leaving a trail of nibbles like bugs make on leaves. Usually that satisfies you, and the clerks don’t seem to mind the missing half ounce when we check out.

When I’m walking you to a park and a swing-set comes within view, you turn around, burst into noises, and give me this look like, “Do you see what I see?!” You expect me to be as surprised by this sudden, joyful apparition as you are. It seems like a pretty awesome way to approach life: at any moment, the coolest thing ever could appear. You know, rather than generally angsting over when mom will bring you back to the park.

Today, when I got home from work, you had just woken up from a nap and were sobbing. (I’m not sure why, but you always wake up crying, or at least fussing. It’s usually short-lived, but very sad.) Your dad was rocking you and whispering, but you were inconsolable. I came upstairs and took you and you instantly went quiet and limp. It’s not too often that Drew plays second fiddle. I kind of love it when I’m the only one you want.

Your love of wallets is as strong as ever, but the other day I noticed you abruptly switched from playing with your dad’s wallet to playing with the recycling bin. When I investigated, I discovered you had recycled his debit card.

You were fussing through a diaper change, so I gave your belly a few raspberries and rested my chin on your chest, talking to you. You smiled, gently removed my glasses, and flipped them so they were on you, upside down. You seemed quite pleased by this.

You have this daily to-do list: put the washcloths in the empty bathtub, pull down the back chair cushions, lift the heating grates out of their holes in the floor, close the baby gate, turn the Lego bin upside down, and pull the kitchen hand-towel onto the floor. Every morning you seem to go through this mental list, and I totally imagine you thinking who the f%$# keeps messing this stuff up? I JUST got it all put away.

You’ve started laughing with your hand covering your mouth. I don’t know where you picked that up from, but it’s unspeakably cute.