Help me god he is crawling. He is FAST. Like the wind. Like a baby on Redbull (for the record he is not given Redbull, I’m not that shitty of a parent). In the last three weeks it went from him army crawling but staying, more or less, in a 6ft radius. He would play and play and stay in one area. Today we turned around and he was climbing the stairs. STAIRS!! damnit. And it’s only the most dangerous things he likes to play with. His current favorites: trying to climb the jagged edged, ER trip-in-the-making, marble hearth; climbing on the swivel chair, playing with electrical outlet covers, chewing on the shoe basket (not dangerous but WTF?!) and playing with the tub of plastic shopping bags. We need to have an stamp card for the emergency room.
Speaking of emergency rooms, Wyatt had his first real choking incident and my husband saved his life doing exactly what they teach us to do in such scenarios. We will of course hold the fact that we saved his life over his head for years to come (god knows this won’t be the first time) as he rolls his angsty teenage-eyes at us. He almost choked to death because at meal time, he likes to pretend he’s a poor starving animal who has to shove food in his face as fast as humanly possible and squirrel it away in his cheeks so we can’t see he still has food in his mouth. This plus the perfect, gooey, airway blocking mashup of cheese and rice puff, equals disaster. But he lived.
My kid loves music. Absolutely loves it. Mostly Sarah Mclachlan, New Orleans style jazz, the occasional 2pac song (Kris’ ridiculous influence) and Christmas songs (my influence) and show tunes. Naturally we ran out and bought him a music set, which includes maracas (aka wood clubs for him to chuck across the room and slam repeatedly into the floor), a tambourine (aka a wooden circle that he chucks across the room and repeatedly slams into the floor) and a clapper (aka…see above). He’s a regular one man band.
This is his first Christmas. We bought him a stupid number of presents, hung his stocking with care, got soft ornaments that we put toward the bottom of the tree in case he tries to grab them, got special kid-appropriate wrapping paper (not that I normally wrap gifts in paper with pictures of genetalia and curse words). He could give two shits about any of it. The tree and twinkly lights? Doesn’t care. Which actually is great, the tree may stay standing this year. Christmas is so much more fun with kids though! We get to plop him in a strange guys lap and take pictures; cram his chubby hands in a block of clay to make ornaments; drag him along for shopping trips among crowds of people; expect him to sit happy and full of glee during endless holiday festivities and let him rip open carefully wrapped packages; watch him rip them open part way; try and eat the paper and then crawl away leaving the gift we were so excited for him to see. It’s a magical time!
Yes I know I have unrealistic expectations for my 9 month olds first Christmas. But the story of his epic meltdown following the adorable picture of him in a Santa hat will be worth every bit for years to come!