You're 16 months old.
You're 16 months old. You have this funny sort of almost-run now, that you use as you charge around the house. You aren't interested in toys anymore, they're just not as exciting as the real world. You love nothing more than opening and closing doors, taking things out of boxes, understanding how tubes and bottles work and climbing stairs. Your world is expanding in front of my eyes, and you love it.
You shriek with laughter at things you find funny - usually the dog. You have this brilliantly fierce growl that you use when you've done something you consider very clever, or naughty. Sometimes you use it in the car just to make me laugh - then you do it again, louder, smiling back again. When you've done something especially new and clever you run off and around in circles, feigning modesty at your achievements, but shyly looking back to the scene of your triumph to check it's been noted. It always has.
You turn to me with a quizzical expression and point at a puzzling object with the same query everytime - 'da?' impatiently waiting for the strange thing to be identified; a stone, an aeroplane, a bee. Your eyes sparkle with a near-smile. Almost always.
Falling over happens often but doesn't usually bother you. If you're tired it becomes an excuse for a cuddle, as you otherwise won't give in and admit that need to just be held. You will give hugs but they are on your own terms and of your own chosen duration. The receiver should always be very honoured, although they can feel more like baby rugby tackles.
Your favourite time is just before your bath, when, stipped naked, you run up and down the landing, hiding behind doorframes and tackling the dog. Your shoulders and back are the most beautiful I've ever seen. I just want to watch you; freeze you and your small frame in time, to take back out in a future of acne and mood swings and silences, and hold again. We hold each other now, every night in your room - you with one hand on your bottle, me with one hand stroking your head. I think back in the half-light to sitting here with the tiny new you in the middle of the night, feeling more than I could ever express, marvelling at how my world had changed. I stroke your head and wish such amazing things for your future, I look at you and kiss your head, hoping you'll always be held secure, if not in my arms, then in the knowledge that you're so wanted, and so loved.
