There's this thing with parenting. It's full of surprises. We were surprised that our kid didn't really like to eat. Especially because we made him and we love to eat. That whole eating thing is getting better, by the way. He eats really well now, with 15 seconds of TV for each bite to push him along. It's showing too. At 22 months he's finally grown out of his 12 month clothing. Here we come 18 month sized clothing, here we come.
I was surprised that the sleep deprivation carried on way past infancy. Even on the nights he doesn't wake at 2am crying for no reason, I've woken, waiting to hear his little cry.
We're surprised at how different kids are; mine happens to be of the variety that stares death in the face and gives it a big middle finger. At his first swim class in over a year he walked straight down the stairs and into the pool with no knowledge of how to swim. Today he ran headlong into the street as we yelled "STOP!" even though he's been taught over and over again to never go in the street. And when I reached him and picked him up, he was giggling maniacally. This kid.
Sometimes I think this kid is going to be the end of me. I feel myself getting annoyed with him when for the 16th time in an hour he's managed to jam his elbow between two of my ribs while climbing all over me. Or when he sits on my head for no reason other than he thinks it's utterly entertaining.
And then, there are the most wonderful surprises, the ones that redeem him from his determined course toward a certain death or his 3am screaming. Like when out of the blue he starts hugging. I mean, real hugging. Without prompting he now throws his tiny little arms around our necks and kisses our cheeks. The surprise for me was the feeling of warmth and love that can come from such a small action, from such a small being. Before this, his hug was leaning into our bodies so we could envelop him. This new version, this participatory version, is the best surprise I didn't expect.
And I'm so happy he's my kid. I wouldn't want another version of Miles, one that eats or listens better or showed even an ounce of caution, for fear that we would lose some other perfect part of him. Here he is, in all his glory, 22 months old, Miles Daredevil Carscadden:
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| Drunk on the job |
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More fun stuff like this is happening.
He's on top of our kitchen table. Unraveling the towels. |
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| It snowed this month |
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When this picture was taken, he was yelling "HELP!"
We're pretty good parents. |
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| Selfie |
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| Friends |
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| Family |
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Spring seemed to make some appearances this month.
Train watching commenced. |
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| Neighbors came out of hiding. |
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| Dinners were had, hands were held. |
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| We took the train to DC. |
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| We went to the Natural History Museum. |
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| We played on the mall. |
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| They can never watch too many trains. |
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| Have to watch all the trains. |
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Sometimes Miles is a pirate.
He steals my heart. (groan) |
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| Playing with his airport. |
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| "Using" chopsticks. |
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| Chilling |
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| Who me? I didn't eat the last yogurt. |
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| Last night we ate a boatload of sushi. (Buddump bump chhh). |
