Some naughty little boy turned eleven months old today. What a handful! He's into eve.ry.thing all the time and if I catch him trying to sneak off to somewhere he's not supposed to be, he turns around, looks at me, starts to giggle and then crawls away as fast as he can. Yes, he's one of those. It's exhausting and slightly funny, but mostly he just wears me out. Not to mention he's cutting at least four teeth! Yikes! I forgot how not-fun this part is.
At this age, Danny is so goofy/silly/funny/entertaining and so his own person. He's always making the funniest faces, always hungry, always making me laugh. He has the most delicious little body that his daddy and I are always squeezing, poking and kissing. Daddy calls him Lucky, like the fat little puppy on 101 Dalmations. If anyone around him is eating, he crawls up, starts breathing heavy and impatiently and sits there with his mouth wide open until someone puts something in it for him to chew. He says mom, momma and ma so clearly and dad and dada as well. He loves his blanket and his passey just as much as Morgan did, which brings back sweet little memories for me of when Morg was his age. Last week he learned how to patty-cake and this week he learned how to 'toss it in the air' (we're still working on the 'roll-it' part, though!)
He loves big brother and is very tolerant of how rough he is with him. I think Morgan thinks he is his pet. He lays on him, rolls on him, and the other day I walked by his room just in time to see Morgan drag him by his leg to move him out of the way. Earlier this week, after hearing Danny cry a little, I came out to the family room to find his head and shirt soaking wet. When I asked Morgan what happened, he said, "I dumped my water bottle on him." Yes, like the whole thing. No big deal. (I swear.)
While there is a lot of pestering going on, it's so sweet to see real brotherhood growing between them. If Danny is upset, I find Morgan trying to figure out what he needs. I love that the most about having two children. It sort of makes up for the messes, craziness, frustration, exhaustion and any other unpleasantries that come with the motherhood territory.
Sugar Rae, we love you, you fat little hobbit boy! We could just squeeze you and squeeze you and then squeeze you some more.
