VivaCity

My dearest JuJuBee is no longer completely defenseless in this cold cruel world...He is the proud owner of two ridged mean-looking teeth on the bottom of his formerly sweet gummy smile. He can now fend off such offensive intruders as strained grean beans or carrots, and believe me, he parries them valiantly. I have an idea that I'd be more successful if I dipped his toes in the stuff. His own teeny tootsies are never deflected. I imagine they taste like Vienna sausages.

It’s a bittersweet milestone, as this means we’ve shed Infancy and are moving full speed ahead towards that treacherous territory, Babyhood. Armed only with scant memories of what Spencer did at this age, we pat ourselves on the back for having kept him alive thus far, close our eyes, wish for the best, and plunge ahead.

I know Julian himself is THRILLED about quickly approaching mobility. He’s a willing spectator at all of Spence’s impromptu shows (unlike some of us…Hey, these things can be lo-o-ong and exhausting to even watch…Watch me do dis! Now watch me do dis! Did you see? Did you SEE dat? No? Well watch dis time!). Julian watches with wonderment shining in his eyes at Spence running and jumping and singing and making siren noises…Oh GOD, the ever-present SIREN NOISES…And cycles his legs furiously in empathy. I have an idea that if I were to set him upright at just the right moment, he would take off in a sprint on sheer momentum and we’d find him somewhere around Columbus.

So my sweet baby, very likely my last baby, which will of course concrete his place in history as THE baby, is dropping infantile habits left and right. Instead of the repetitive vowel sounds we’ve gotten used to (aaaaaa….eeeeee….oooooohhh), he’s now mixing it up with consonants, which is both encouraging and frustrating to Spence. He can carry on a conversation, but occasionally seems quite dismissive of Spence’s accomplishments (Ohhhh, yeah? YEAH yeah yeah yeah yeah…).

I watch all of this unfold with mixed feelings…How bittersweet that my little one should be so quickly vaulting over milestones with the prize in sight while I cling to his sweet-smelling present and buck the thought of tomorrow. I know, I know, it will be nice when he’s more independent, but we will never again be in this particular pleasant time-bubble where he needs me, truly needs me, and falls asleep each night in my arms with those damned big boy teeth hidden behind his sweet smile.

So if on the day my JuJuBee goes to take his first wobbling, proud step, and you should happen to see my arm snaking out to push him down, just look away and pretend not to see. Don’t judge me.