Ten! That's a lot. I remember turning ten years old and being thrilled by the idea that it wouldn't be much longer that I could confess my age with fingers. Ten months seems almost as momentous when you're discussing the age of your firstborn. He's been my outside baby as long as he was my inside baby. He has opinions and preferences and thoughts. He has favorite books and favorite foods. It took ten months, but I feel like I know this kid. I know those opinions and thoughts and favorites. When he's crying I know it's because he is bored and not wet/hungry/tired. When he's wiggly I know it's because he's tired. I know what silliness will make him laugh and which acts of ridiculousness will be the equivalent of an "ohmompulease."
Bennett learned that a box of miscelaneous junk is the most fabulous toy ever.
We learned that as long as you seperate the dangerous junk from the safe junk, you have an hour or so to unpack.
Bennett learned to sit still because scissors are shiny! and new! and verynearmyeyeballs.
We learned that babies don't appreciate going out to dinner to celebrate their very first haircut.
Bennett learned that crawling is for sissies.
We learned to make excuses.
Bennett learned to use toys to reach and scoop to get what you want.
We learned that people don't buy this genius problem solver bit for a minute.
Bennett learned to pull up in his crib.
We learned it's time to curb our cussing.
Bennett learned that shots don't hurt.
We learned our baby is a man of steal.
Bennett learned to sleep through the night.
We learned that talking about sleep never gets old.
Bennett learned it's more fun to wiggle, stand and take giant leaps.
We learned that taking monthly photos is becoming a challenge.