This year has been full of precious memories that I sure as heck don't want to forget when we are celebrating the boy's sixth or seventh or fifty-fourth birthday.
The way he loves hanging out by the bathtub. There are fabulous toys, like the rubber Dante and the shampoo bottle and tub stoppers and sharp metal door tracks.
The way his little face looks as he stands up all by himself, like "did you see what I just did?"
The way he waves at everyone and everything, from the grandma and grandpa to ceiling fans and squirrels.
His instinct to flirt. I thought the bashful eye look was something you had to learn, but this kid was born with game.
His giggle as he notices Atticus waiting for dinnertime cast-offs.
His giggle when he sees me hide.
That time he ate an orange, peel and all.
That time he ate a lemon and threw it on the floor.
The way he closes his eyes and shakes his hands when he tastes something he does not like.
His hands searching for mine as he slides off my lap.
The first time he pointed at the moon.
The first time he pointed at a cow.
His mommy phase. He reaches for strangers to hold him, but as soon as he's there, he can't wait to be back in my arms.