Hello, Sunshine

Before a baby is born, all parents say things like, "I just want him/her to be healthy. Nothing else really matters." And all parents mean it. But all parents also, whether they admit it or not, speculate on what qualities they would like their child to possess.

A. and I, not being the reticent types, DID admit some of our hopes for the coming child before he was born. Beyond the health, I mean, which Cubby has IN SPADES*. A. was hoping for a big, strong boy. I was hoping for a child with a naturally happy disposition.

We both got our wishes.

It occurs to me that I haven't really talked about Cubby a whole lot on this site. Other than to remark on his shocking rate of growth, I mean. But he's more than just a Giant Infant. He's a truly happy child, who is content to play by himself in his station (thanks, Nana!) for a half hour or so at a time, bouncing maniacally and talking to the spinning froggie. He laughs when I bite his ribs, bark suddenly at him (still no fear), and bounce him on the bed. Animal noises never fail to produce a big, gummy grin, especially quacking like a duck. He loves the book Barnyard Dance (thanks, Aunt Tara!). Also Peekaboo. He likes to listen to his sea shanties, the Beach Boys, and "I've Been Workin' on the Railroad."

He's almost outgrown the 12-month onesies. He loves to eat real food (albeit very small bits of it), sitting in his booster seat at the table with the big people. He has never rejected a food yet, not even the first solid food he ever got (yogurt). Beets and yogurt are a favorite.

He is not afraid of strangers at all (yet), and he loves his daddy and his grandma.

He's starting to respond to his name. Something of a miracle, since we all call him different nicknames along with his actual name, so it wouldn't be surprising if the kid got confused.

When he's ready to get up in the morning--sometimes far too EARLY in the morning, but whatever--he thumps his feet on the side of his crib and talks to himself.

Grabbing his toes is the newest funnest thing ever. And the dogs always get a big smile, even when they try to lick his face.

He still only has two teeth, both right next to each other. His hair is thickening up, but mostly in the center, which makes him look kind of like he has a mohawk. And he is a remarkably handsome child. I mean, A. and I aren't ugly or anything, but we're also not exactly supermodels. The sum of our combined genetics is apparently greater than the individual parts.

He rarely cries. I've been told this is not always the case with babies, so I should realize how lucky I am.

I do. Realize how lucky I am, I mean. In so many ways.

That suspicious wet spot isn't pee; he's been practicing drinking from a glass. Obviously, he needs more practice.

* He's never been sick yet. And I am now knocking on every piece of wood in the house, because is that tempting fate or what?