You're 12 months old, you're practically walking, you try to climb up slides and race across play structures. You wear size 18month pants because they're the only ones long enough to reach your ankles. You hand me the remote in the morning and climb up into my lap to watch Shaun the Sheep with your morning bottle (which you still refuse to hold for yourself despite being very good at drinking from your straw cup without help). You can sign for "eat," "more," "milk," "please," "dog," and a few others when you feel like it, though they require a Mommy's interpretation. You're growing and learning and changing so much.
When you were just a few months old, I remember thinking you were getting so big you hardly fit in my arms when I was rocking you with your bottle. Somehow, despite continuing to grow, you still fit.
Holding you next to me in bed, you still fit perfectly with your head on my arm and snuggled against me. You feel the same as you did a year ago (though I'm much less worried about rolling over you). I might wish you'd sleep in your bed all night, every night. But some day, you really will be too big for this... And I'm not in any hurry for that day to come.
Love you forever,
Mommy
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