You have begun to get jokes now. If I look at you through the bars of your crib, it’s a funny joke. If I put the octopus stuffed animal on my head, it’s a funny joke. You are garnering an idea of how things are supposed to be, and so when they go awry you get it. And when I make them go awry on purpose (like putting a pair of pants on my head, for example), you find it amazingly hilarious.
Your eyes dance. You look at either Dad or me when we come in a room that you’re in – if you haven’t seen us even for as short as a minute, and you get thrilled. Big smiles, big laughs, wiggles and reaching and hugging. You prefer to be held by one of us, if we’re around, though you’ll still go to others.
You also have begun to sprout, nurture, and protect this thing called A Will Of Your Own. You want things, you choose things, and on occasion demand things go a certain way. For example, you have turned from an angelic traveler to a carseat-hatin’ maniac. The other day I put you in the carseat to go see Miss Kim, and you were like – NO. I HATE the carseat. HATE. So I handed you the crinkly pooh bear book, and you threw that book to the ground. Just hurled it away, and wailed and moaned and kicked your legs. I was not going to trick you into going happily into that carseat. The era of tricking and distraction is over.
Luckily, we don’t see lots of tantrums out of you. We don’t grant your every wish, and I know that helps. I want you to get used to the idea that you don’t get everything you want, that the world doesn’t revolve around you.
Who am I kidding? My world revolves around you, utterly. But it’s my secret. One day I’ll let you in on it, when you have a wee one of your own, and I’ll know you understand.
*If you want a wee one of your own! No pressure!