About 547 days old

Tomorrow John M. is 18 months old, on the dot. I must say, that kid is growing up too quickly. Maybe it's the finality of it all. He is my last baby. I know there will be no others. This is it. No more 'noopies', no more bottles, no more chubby baby hands around my neck. No.more.little.baby.
Okay, let me snap out of it. John, an update on YOU:

In the past few months, you've started to add more and more words to your vocabulary; you say 'Mama' regularly now and you also enjoy a good 'Cheese!', which you learned after watching Macy snap pretend pictures with her 'camera'. You try to say everyone's name now and that has caused us to all be wrapped around your little pinky finger a little bit tighter.

You still love anything chocolate; I think if we dipped a dog turd in chocolate, you'd wolf it down like nobody's business. You also enjoy macaroni and cheese. You even love the 'Easy Mac' variety. Yeah, me! And hamburgers; you can eat an entire little hamburger from a Happy Meal in no time flat.

We gave you your first sip of beer the other day, and you scarfed it down with such enjoyment, I almost called AA. You even kept shaking the bottle while you had it turned totally upside down in your mouth, so as to get every miniscule drop out. You then proceeded to hand me the bottle and point to another, like 'NEXT'. I considered letting you have the entire bottle and getting a really good night's sleep that night. But then I thought again.

You've taken to saying 'OWwwwwwww!' - this is something brand new, when you've hurt yourself, you look at me with your confused little wrinkled brow and curled up eyebrows as it to ask 'how do I express this pain that I'm in?' and I'll say, 'It hurt? Say Ouch' and you'll kind of growl it out 'OWwwwuhhhh'.

During the past few weeks, you've discovered climbing. Everything. And standing atop what you've just climbed. You'll usually throw in a little victory jig once you're on top, as if to say, 'I have conquered the coffee table, hear me roar!'.

You still love being outside more than just about anything else. We can't say the word 'outside' unless we plan on taking you there. We have to spell it. I'm hoping you outgrow this before you learn to spell 'outside'.

I'm still waiting for you to enjoy being read to. Right now, the only books you like are the 'touch and feel' books where you can feel fur, or bumps, or something of the sort.

You've discovered your body parts and like to get more familiar with them when in the tub.

You really enjoy being powdered, you love viewing bellybuttons, and also brushing other people's hair with any object that remotely resembles a brush. A phone, a toothbrush, whatever.

Another favorite pastime is knocking things down. Doesn't matter what. As long as you can knock it on the floor or across the room, your work has been done.

You're just my boy. As I tell you every day. 'Hey John M., you're my boy, do you know that?'.I wonder how many times in your short little lifetime I've said that.

But, it's true. You're my only boy. I can't remember how many times before you were born I told people I didn't want to have a boy because I didn't know what to do with them. I just knew girls and I thought I liked it that way. I don't think I've ever been more wrong (and trust me, I'm wrong about lots of things.) A boy is exactly what I needed and God gave me the perfect one. Thanks for being my boy. I love you, Mr. John M, more than mud puddles.