You are eleven months old.
You like to steal dish towels off the stove when you think Mama’s not looking. But you are such a good boy that if she says “ah-ah” you move away from the oven. You might make a little noise about it, but you do move.
You are very amused by the game of peekaboo.
You love sweet potatoes, carrots, green beans, peas, pears, peaches, applesauce, bananas and Cheerios. You will eat Cheerios and bread with your fingers but you do not recognize small pieces of fruit and veggies as food, unless they’re on a spoon.
You take your bottles facing outward on Mama’s lap — this has been the case for a long time — and you prefer to have something to hold while you drink. If there’s nothing in your hand, you will take off your sock and play with your foot.
You are desperate to stand and walk, and you pull up on the gate, your toy box, your music table, the dishwasher, the fridge, and our legs. But you are also very good at getting where you want to go, quickly, with your funny, leg-in-front crawl. It makes a funny ka-thunk noise, so this is why we sometimes call you Peg-Leg Pete.
You will come thumping across the floor if we open the fridge or the dishwasher.
You would eat your weight in Cheerios if we let you.
You are fascinated by sunbeams and shadows.
You are equally interested in the screws that hold a toy together as the toy itself.
You have figured out how to take things with you when you crawl, so now we find books in the kitchen and fridge magnets in the dining room.
You have also figured out how not to yawn or rub your eyes when you’re tired. Instead, you become very vocal and active and will climb all over Mama and bite her shoulder. But once you’re on your way upstairs, you give in to yawns and eye-rubbing.
You know that when you hear the garage door, someone is arriving or departing. Either way, you wave, say “buh” or “mama” and often go to the gate to see if someone’s coming.
You like to lick the glass of the deck doors.
Your favorite books are Baby Faces, Pat The Bunny, Trucks Go and Dear Zoo. You consistently pull them off your bookshelf and turn the pages and interact with them and carry them with you across the room. Unless it’s Pat The Bunny, in which case you will sit and play peekaboo with Paul and feel Daddy’s scratchy face and bend over to look at yourself in the mirror.
You enjoy playing with us, but you will also play by yourself.
You are so handsome that strangers routinely stop to comment about it. This has Mama a little worried.
You love your Daddy to bits. You squeal when you see him in the morning and at the end of the day. You love to grab his face and ears, and you love it when he puts you on his shoulders. If you go over to him and ask to be picked up, and he doesn’t pick you up, you do a really funny fake cry.
You also love your Grammie. You give her the biggest smiles and reach for her face, and you like playing with the pretty necklace she wears for you.
You get a huge smile on your face whenever we Skype with Avva, who lives very far away. Even if you’ve had a funky morning, you smile and smile and greet her, and then you imitate what she says, and try to feed her Cheerios when she asks you to.
You are eleven months old, and we’re pretty sure you’re the best baby ever.
Mama-Come-Lately 