Hellobee

Little Y has hit that big 18-month mark. I know a lot of developmental stuff goes on around this age, and I can definitely see it – I feel like I really, truly have a full-fledged kid with quirks and inside jokes and personality galore. He just isn’t a baby anymore. Sigh. Here’s what’s going on:

Sleep. He remains an awesome sleeper, for which I am ever so thankful. 11-12 hours at night, and anywhere from 90 minutes to 3 hours during his midday nap. He even slept like a rock at my parents’ house, where the temperature in his room often dipped below 60. Brrrrr … so glad for fleece sleep sacks.

We took Little Y on the “Christmas train.” They had a train table ON the train (top left). He enjoyed himself until Santa came through the car, at which point he clawed at me in terror (right).
 

Food. We’re mostly holding steady – he’s a great eater and still eats three times a normal toddler portion in any given sitting. New favorites include pancakes, peas and scrambled eggs. He only gets milk or water to drink – I’d like to keep him away from juice for as long as possible.

Talk. Little Y has had a wee little word explosion. He’s still way behind where a lot of kids are at this age, but compared to a couple months ago, he’s a walking dictionary! He says “bath” (actually, “buh-buh-buh-baaaaath?” with a big grin and a finger pointing upstairs toward the tub), “car,” “clock” (those sound practically identical), “yeah,” “nana” for banana, “bap”  for “nap,”  “tuh” for train, occasionally “cat” and “duh” for dog, “dada” and very, very occasionally, “mama.” But for the most part, I’m still “dada,” too.

Trying out a piano at the Children’s Museum

Play. A funny thing happened a couple months ago. I went to an open house at a toy store and was given a goody bag. Said goody bag included a wooden Thomas train. At first, I thought that was a really nice freebie – until I discovered that Thomas is like crack for a little boy. That train was a gateway drug. He’s an addict now, and we’re his dealers. We don’t have room for a full-fledged train table right now, but when we move later this year, Papa Y has pledged to give him a pretty sweet set-up. Beyond Thomas, Little Y is still into most other things with wheels and his new play kitchen. He especially likes to answer the phone with funny, completely nonsensical conversational noises.

Temperament. Papa Y likes to (affectionately) call Little Y a mama’s boy. I suppose it’s true – and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it sometimes. He’ll often pause mid-meal while we’re out at a restaurant and reach out to me for a hug (or two or three). He likes to give me kisses, sloppy and open-mouthed as they are. He warms up to women much quicker than men – in fact, my dad is still trying to win him over. What can I say? He’s a ladies’ man.

Duck face on Christmas morning (top left), totally content with his first gift (bottom left), reading with his grandpa after we were snowed in the next day.

Like all kids, Little Y has plenty of quirks. He likes to make “duck face” – which is exactly like it sounds – and “cheese face,” which is scrunched eyes and nose, plus a ridiculous grin. In the tub, he thinks it’s hilarious when I sing “Your butt’s like an island” – apologies to Rihanna, who provided the inspiration with “Shine bright like a diamond.” He won’t hold hands for long unless he’s holding one of mine and one of Papa Y’s, in which case he will happily walk for ages between us and whine when one of us tries to let go. He won’t ride his Wheely Bug for long – I think it still scares him – but he will spin it around, then spin himself around until he’s stumbling into the couch or wall like a drunk. Oh, and he always tries to pick my nose when I’m putting him down for a nap. Weirdo.

Interestingly, it’s not until this month that I finally felt the first very (very very very) subtle twinges of baby fever. Perhaps it’s all the baby clothes and gear I’ve been reorganizing, donating, and packing away. Perhaps it’s the mild shock of seeing my child run full speed across the room, or slide down the slide at the mall play area on his own. Perhaps it’s seeing what a fantastic, weird, funny, smart little guy he’s becoming, and wanting to slowly discover another child’s personality. It’s probably a mix of all of that. If it were up to Papa Y, we’d already have five kids – but I’m in no rush.

Happy 18 months, buddy!

Just for kicks: Little Y at this time last year.