The Second Year

It's amazing how much Will has changed since he turned one. Don't get me wrong; the first year brings an amazing amount of change unto itself: newborn, sitting up, crawling, walking. The physical changes from zero to one are pretty fantastic--but they don't compare to the changes that happen in the second year.

When Will turned one, he was still very much a baby. Yes, he had learned how to walk, but he stumbled around, still took a bottle, couldn't speak (other than mama, dada, and Doug--our cat). He still had that squishy, adorable baby look to him, and he definitely hadn't developed the toddler-esque defiance that came along in full force around 16 months.

Now, he is a fully-functioning little person. He can pretty much say any word (and repeats words we don't necessarily want him to repeat--nothing like a 20-month-old in the house to make you censor yourself), carry on conversations with us, fully understands commands and does them (well, when he feels like it), says "please" and "thank you" and understands when to use them, has an amazing sense of humor, can say his numbers and is starting to recognize colors, knows when we are nearing our neighborhood ("home!"). He understands the concept of peeing and pooing in the toilet (although we are no where near trained yet), and just generally looks like a little boy. Even today at his doctor appointment his pediatrician commented on how much taller and leaner he has become. But it's not the physical things that are the marked changes this second year, especially in the last two months--it's the emotional. He's not only become leaner and taller, he's become funnier, smarter and, well, more human.

I sometimes wish I could bottle up these precious days--times when he seems to change literally by the minute. But it flies by too fast to bottle up, so all I can do is sit with him, play, and try and will my brain to remember these moments forever.