This time last year I was big as a house,
just counting down the days until we'd meet.
Saying 'time flies' doesn't do it justice for what I feel this past year has been. I have to remind myself that you're 11 months old and not a newborn!
Here you are eleven months later and already adding to the noise and rambunctiousness of the house. You are filling the shoes of a 'Bruiser' quite well joining in on wrestling matches and yelling contest. You, by far, have the highest pitch and longest squeal. The baby in you loves to be held, snuggled, and carried everywhere. This must be how the "baby of the family" is born because Daddy and I happily oblige. The other night you woke up about midnight, not crying, just talking to yourself in your crib. I listened to you for a while until I couldn't help myself and I went and brought you into our bed. You, Daddy, and me played and talked for about an hour before we all finally fell asleep. So happy and such a lovey.
Those four little teeth are as ferocious as they look. They are sharp and strong and pack a mighty punch when you bite, which seems to be a lot these days. No matter how stern my face when I tell you "No, biting!" you grin and giggle and cock your head back to bite again.
We pacify your desire to chomp by always offering a safe skin-free alternative. You look like a puppy crawling around with a chew toy in your mouth.