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One year old. Happy birthday, TJ, even though you don’t understand what that means.
It’s a very bittersweet day for me. I’m so proud of everything you’ve done and learned to do. You’re so strong and so smart. But you’re not really a baby anymore. You’re a little boy. You can see if in your face. You’re so big, I can hardly believe it.
You’re eating all table food now. (Those toddler meals we get you count as table food; they’re just packaged to be just the right size for you!) You drink whole milk instead of formula. And I’m sure your grandmas will try to feed you even more inappropriate foods now that you’ve reached the one-year mark, which is the go-ahead for just about everything but chocolate and obvious choking hazards like peanuts and whole, unpeeled grapes. Some of your favorite snacks include Ritz Dinosaur Crackers and Bug Bites Graham Crackers. You love cereal (Corn Chex more now than Cheerios) and breakfast bars with fruit in them. You also gobble down fresh cantaloupe… until you get full and squeeze the juice all over the place, staining your fingers (and mine) dark orange.
You’re walking a few steps every day now. You even took six steps and turned while walking this week! You’re so much braver about letting go and walking without support. Bravery has gotten you to the point where you like to play with the vacuum cleaner, too, instead of being deathly afraid of it when it’s just sitting there in the corner. Once it’s turned on, though, all bets are off, and you scream unapologetically. I always feel so bad, but I have to clean up after you when we have people coming to look at the house!
Mysterious scratches and bruises show up all over your body because you’re such an active, curious boy. You love to climb. You can spend 20 minutes chasing your ball around the house. When it stops moving, you pick it up and throw it so you can chase it some more. You like to “drive” random objects around the house, pushing them along the floor. You empty the DVDs off the shelf over and over again, as I replace them so you can do it again. (You drive them through the house, too. And you seem to like Angelina Jolie.)
You’ve been such a good boy when it’s been so crazy over the past two weeks. I’ve packed you up and we’ve gone over to Grandma Kitty’s for hours so that I could work, you could play, and our house would stay clean and empty for all the people who wanted to come in and look at it.
Naptime has become much more predictable. You’ve worked yourself down (mostly) to one nap per day, for 2.5 to 3 hours. Bedtime is usually between 8:00 and 8:30, and you’ve been waking up about 12 hours later rather consistently.
Duck is your favorite word. You can also say dog, Dad, Daddy, Mama, cat, car, quack, meow, and roar (like a dragon). You tell such wonderful stories, too, but we just can’t understand what you’re saying most of the time yet.
Pointing is one way to get what you want, although you’re getting a bit of a temper when we don’t immediately do what you want to do. You understand what no means, but you don’t always listen. You shake your head no but continue doing what you want to do. You occasionally listen when we use your full name to tell you no. (It’s one way to get you to recognize your full name as Thomas instead of just TJ, too.) You don’t like it when I sit you on my lap to explain to you why you can’t touch the TV (so you don’t hurt yourself or break anything), but maybe eventually you’ll understand what I’m saying and you’ll stop doing it.
We’re going to turn your car seat around! You’ll get to face forward now. What a big boy!
I love my one-year-old boy.
That’s me: Christina Gleason. I’m a writer, editor, and disability advocate. I'm a multiply disabled autistic lady doing my best in this world built for abled people. I’m a geek for grammar, fantasy, and casual gaming. I hate vegetables. I cannot reliably speak, so I’ll happily conduct business over email or messaging instead.
