My boys are growing up. This is alternately heart-breaking and the best news ever. Somehow our little Monkey is almost two. Two?! He was just born. The whole walking, running, talking fact of his little boy-ness is frequently more than I can take. While all of Yogi’s changes have been similarly world-shifting, they’ve also been more anticipated. When he took his first steps it was a moment we had been waiting for. His babbling and eventual talking felt the same way. There was a sense that this thing that we had been imagining was actually happening now and oh, the excitement! No so with the Monk.
When he started walking, my first thought was “Wait a second! What are you doing?! Babies don’t walk!?”. The same shock accompanied his first everything. It’s strange how deeply I have not seen any of it coming. Of course none of that matters to the Monk. He has had his own thing going from the beginning and I’m certain he relishes each surprise.
At not-quite two he wants to do everything “self!”. He drinks out of a top-less cup, clears his place at the table, throws away all of his own trash and pours a (mostly) responsible capful of bubble bath in the tub each night. He also wipes and diapers his baby with great care, runs almost as fast as his brother, gives huge, wide-armed bear hugs, and eats no fewer than two apples each day.
I’ve never meet a more gentle soul. Lucky is what we are.