Many years ago, there was a late night comedy sketch (I think it was on In Living Color–I loved that show!) about a mother who was overly attached to her grown son. When introducing him to someone, she described him as about 422 months old. That she still counted his age in months was part of the punch line about how much she babied him.
I find myself thinking of that sketch whenever I hit a boundary for how I count Seven’s age. I started counting in days. Two days old! Now he’s 8 days old! But slowly (or rather, quickly), days turned weeks. And weeks into months. Should I say 11 days or 1.5 weeks? 7 weeks or almost 2 months?
And now we find ourselves at yet another milestone. 22 months. It is hard to believe it has been that long. But it is also beginning to feel a little embarrassing to say 22 months. When each new person asks about his age, I find myself stumbling about how to answer. “22 months,” I’ll say, and quickly add, “He’ll be 2 in March.”
It’s not that I’m eager for him to move into full-fledged toddler-hood and growing independence. It’s that I see the changes in him everyday and marvel at how much he is learning. His speech has exploded. He is becoming so polite with his “thank you, you’re welcome” and “please” and “bless you” that it is hard to think he will soon hit the terrible-twos. It is really amazing how he remembers things and can tell us stories about what happened–even if most words aren’t quite intelligible yet. Last week the hubby was getting him dressed when the garbage truck rolled by. They stopped to watch it through the window. Seven was so excited when he came downstairs that he had to tell me all about it. His mouth was going a mile a minute, mostly things we couldn’t decipher but there was a “truck” or “garbage” or “vroom” every once in a while. It was the cutest thing.
He is all boy. Despite our attempts to not pigeonhole him into gender stereotypes, if it’s a truck or a train or anything transportation related, he loves it. Fire trucks are just the most exciting thing ever. He also loves to be outside, taking walks, swinging, playing in the park. He likes to have us read to him and has memorized his favorite stories. Singing and dancing are also big hits.
So that’s my toddler. My 22 month old. My almost two year old. I love you.