As much as I know you must be sick of seeing this first picture, I can't help but marvel that, in 18 very short months, this guy:
has become this guy:
So cool, despite the fact that he's flashing a little diaper in the shot.
I mentioned not long ago that Michael is involved in some kind of marvelous development explosion. As evidence I offer the fact that I only managed to get one 18-month photo of him sitting in the chair. Why sit when you can stand, bounce, and attempt to fling yourself from a dangerous height? Sitting is so yesterday.
I've have continued to keep my fretting (mostly) in check regarding Michael's late blooming in the walking department. He will now walk when holding our hands. This is progress, despite the fact that when he's holding our hands he moves slower than molasses. No wonder the boy isn't interested in walking, his crawl is wicked fast. Two weeks ago in church he was halfway down the side aisle before I could catch him.
We've also been playing that back and forth game: Matt and I will sit a few feet apart and encourage him to go back and forth between us. Tonight we recorded serious progress as he took three and even four steps in a row!
Michael is taking his time learning to talk as well, and it is something I'm going to bring up at our appointment with the pediatrician next week. Yesterday he climbed up my chair while I was reading and I swear he pointed to my book and said, "Book!" clear as day. BUT I cannot get him to say it again, so it may have been coincidental babble.
Michael has just recently learned the signs for "please" and "thank you," giving up "more" in the process. Harper did the same thing, once she learned "please" she just used it in place of "more". Consequently he sits in his chair at mealtimes signing "please" over and over and over and over. You'd think he was starving over here - unlikely as he weighs just over 25.5 pounds! Seriously, I'm going to need physical therapy if he doesn't start walking soon, he's so heavy.
Harper continues to be a mostly doting big sister. I was talking to a friend on the phone tonight while getting dinner ready when I heard this insane sound behind me. I turned to look and Harper had Michael sort of pinned down on the kitchen floor; she was lifting his shirt and giving him the loudest zerberts I've ever heard. It was hilarious and all of us were laughing for a few minutes. Of course, as is the way with these things, Michael tired of the game before Harper did and the activity deteriorated into frustrated screaming. I hear the two of them should outgrow that dynamic by the time they are in their twenties.
A year and a half is looking pretty good. I love discovering the little boy Michael is becoming even as I cling to the remaining bits of his babyhood.