10 Months

Mr. Tate,

Today you are 10 months old. Yes, it’s true. Double digits. Good lord.

This month you have advanced past your age limit and are starting to walk. Dude….STOP! STOP IT NOW! You have been standing and walking while holding on to shelves and walls and toys for a while now, but a week ago Lucy and I were playing soccer in the front yard while you sat in the grass a few feet from us. You were probably eating leaves or doing something else you shouldn’t have been when I looked over and saw you standing there. You took one look at Lucy (and the bright pink soccer ball she was kicking around), smiled and took one huge step in her direction. She and I both started screaming and you promptly fell on your butt, looking at us like we were insane. Which, let’s face it, we are.

I am excited you are developing so well, and so quickly, but I also want to hit the pause button. Yesterday when I picked you up from daycare you were literally running around the room, holding yourself up with some walker toy they have. Today when I dropped you off, I mentioned they could feel free to chain you to the floor. Dude, you’re gonna learn that sometimes, when Mama makes jokes, people assume she’s serious and look at her like she is the worst. You’ll learn to laugh it off. Or, if you’re like your sister, you’ll learn to roll your eyes.

You have been saying “Dada” for a couple of months, but just this past week you started saying “ball.” And woah, dude, you love balls. [If you are reading this 13 years in the future, I want you to stop laughing right now, I didn’t mean it like that!] You see a bouncy ball across the room and your whole body tightens up, like you can’t contain the excitement. I find myself treating you a bit like Bam Bam from The Flintstones, just giving you something to bang on to occupy your time. Hey, whatever works, you know?

Your personality is changing and expanding as well, little dude. I hate to say it, but you are turning into a bit of a drama queen. Most of the time you are super mellow, just taking in everything around you, but if anything is out of whack (you feel sick/tired/hungry) you turn in to a ball of tears so quickly, it makes my head spin. The other day you were such a grump, you cried whenever anyone looked at you. Literally, you’d sit there happy as can be, and then you’d make eye contact with someone in the room and burst into tears. The minute they’d look away, you’d stop crying and continue on with your business. Well, excuuuuusee me, crabby pants.

I love you, Mr. Man. I love how you growl at people whenever they have food, until they give it to you. I love how bananas you go whenever you realize pounding on something will make a loud noise. I love how you squeal with glee when you see your sister in the morning. I love how the minute you see something you know you shouldn’t have, you make a beeline straight for it (sister’s room, dog bowl, toilet), cackling with glee the entire way. I even love how you’ve learned to shake your head “no.”

But seriously, do Mama a solid and say my name next. No more of this “dada” and “ball” crap. Cool?

Love,
Mama