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July 28, 2009
Fifteen
Wanna know how far behind I am on my little list of post ideas? Owen turned 16 months LAST WEEK.
That makes the title a little dated, to say the least.
At 15 months, Owen was starting to say a few words somewhat regularly. Some words he would say several times for a few days, and then they would disappear completely. Like, say, Mama.
At 16 months, Owen seems to be picking up new words every day. He has some standards, like Hi, Bye, Mamamamama (Always at the top of his lungs), Meow, Dog and Ice. Then he has his specialty words, the ones that start with "B" and "P". Poo, potty, Boo(bie), Poo(kie), Bike and Bird. He's constantly pointing out new things and inquiring as to what they might be called, although he can rarely make a sound that approximates the actual word.
Today, he learned to say Mine. Oh, goody.
He also waves (he likes to say hi to every car that passes, and people in stores, just after they get to the point where they can't see him. He doesn't seem to mind when they don't respond.) He waves bye after people leave. He blew kisses for a couple days, but apparently he's too manly for that now, and prefers a masculine "pat" that feels more like he's trying to dislodge a bon bon that's trapped in my esophagus. He likes to spin, last month in just one direction, but now he'll go either way. He flings his arm across his body to get the momentum going and then just keeps going. Today he discovered the comedy on falling down and saying Ow, before climbing back up to start all over again.
He's sleeping like a champ, which is still a wonder to me, after all the struggle in the first year. Only rarely does someone have to intervene before 6am, the time at which I'll drag my butt out of bed and nurse him. Depending on what time the urge to snack strikes him, I'll often get another hour or so of sleep before he's had enough of whatever he's doing up there. There are times I'm sure he's awake, but playing so quietly that no one is disturbed. In the last couple weeks, while the girls have been gone, he was doing a fairly good job of sleeping in til 7:30 or 8, a couple times until 8:30. I'm becoming freakishly well rested.
Owen has a mouthful of teeth, with new ones popping through every day, it seems. I'm blaming his few cranky days on the pain of his gums. He's generally very happy, if extremely loud and squealy. He shrieks every. single. time. he sees a bird, so loudly that I wonder why they still come into our yard. He adores the cats, and treats them like tackling dummies on a football field. He eats sporadically, sometimes downing ridiculous amounts of something one day, then never touching it again. I'm still pouring more milk down the drain than into his stomach, but he eats yoghurt with a passion. And don't get between the boy and his pancake: he'll just as soon cut you as look at you for such offense. I've recently unbent enough to let him start feeding himself the messy stuff with a spoon, and he surprises me every time with his skill and dexterity. He's great at getting a spoon or fork full of food into his mouth; he's also great at upending the bowl on top of his head before it's completely empty.
I can't imagine a time when this sweet boy wasn't part of my life, a time when I thought our family was complete without him. He's such a joy, an exercise in patience, the picture of giddy balls-to-the-wall life, my very own.
Posted by me at July 28, 2009 8:23 PM