Between Baby + Kid

Most days I feel like he's my itty bitty baby boy. In some ways he always will be. But my sixteen-month-old Ollie is changing fast. His body is growing taller and his eyes wiser. He is running with big kids at the park and hunting for the perfect digging stick. He's collecting rocks for his jar and making vroom vroom sounds with little metal cars over every surface in the house. He's dribbling a soccer ball with remarkable precision and making faces at the bakery when I buy a treat for Bleu and her friend {and not him}. We didn't strap on the Ergo carrier once this week. But he did climb in and out of the stroller at least 45 times to drop off or pick up his siblings.


He now fits into Buby's old camo pants. You know, the cool ones with the zipper pockets. He insists on climbing the highest step stool to brush his own teeth under running water. Oh my, he loves running water. He puts out his hand as to say "soap please" to wash his own body in the bath tub. He points to his diaper when it's dirty. He dances like a robot. He listens a good amount of the time. He stacks and balances things, fills and empties things. He likes to shower and stand in other people's boots. He comes to me to zipper his coat. He practices going UP the stairs with me. He helps unload the dryer and waits for his daddy to come home every night.


I'm trying to savor every little bit of Ollie right now while he straddles the line between baby and kid. Here are a few reminders that he has one leg firmly planted in baby: He still has witching hours and cries through dinner {a mix of tired and just wanting me to hold him in the evenings}; he chews through board books; he hasn't had his first hair cut; he has a lot of teething to go; he won't completely give up nursing {I'm trying--he's resisting}; he gets upset when I walk out of the room; he has a bazillion sounds but no real words. Yet.