Although I should probably make some official tentative plans to stop calling him "the baby."
But just like how Jason and I both conveniently forgot to remind each other about last weekend's haircut plans, I won't follow through, so why bother?
I mentioned his vocabulary in this week's Cafemom column, and he's easily added at least three words since that last count. He also will respond to a request to "raise the roof" with putting his arms up and...well, raising the damn roof. He brushes his own teeth, cleans up his messes and pitches a holy fit if denied an opportunity to carry my keys around, and yes, I have a decoy set I try to offer -- one that DOESN'T flood the neighborhood with the constant beeps of remote locking/unlocking/panic-button -- and yes, he knows there's a difference and will have NONE OF THAT.
His scars from the escalator accident are healing, albeit slowly. Any residual fears from the escalator accident healed much faster, because he remains as bold and brave and reckless as ever.
His favorite thing to say is "OH WOW," which is pretty much how he describes anything he likes, which is pretty much everything in the world. We say it a lot too, about him.
PS. Still. HAIRCUT. Hold me. They've been traumatic in the past, is all.
PPS. Yes, am working on the ProjRun finale recap for Mamapop. But I apparently wrote all my notes in some strange foreign language. Either that, or I wrote them at one in the morning after too much red wine. But let's go with the speaking-in-tongues theory.