Jack,

This morning you locked eyes with me from across the breakfast table and smacked a deliciously loud kiss my way. After my heart splintered with a loud crack, and the neighbor shouted timber, I thought, ‘That’s it. Today I write a post.’ So I’m diving in… one, two—

Eleven months now, and you’re such a delight. Your favorite activities are dancing, clapping, and climbing the stairs. It’s particularly hilarious to climb them while I’m making dinner. You take it nice and slow, peeking over your shoulder to see if I’m game and on the chase. You slow your pace mid-stairs so that I can catch up and we rupture into a fit of tickling fingers and belly laughs.

Your laugh is perfect. Absolutely authentic and perfect. Out of your gut it leaps. You have an intelligent sense of humor. You laugh at the sorts of things adults laugh at.

(Okay, well except when I let you free fall out of my arms. You laugh pretty hard at that, too, which isn’t- ur- intelligent...)

Words are a newer thing for you. You say da-da, and very infrequently mama, ba-ba (for bottle,) nigh-nigh, bye-bye (pronounced bah-bah, like a true Southerner), dance-dance, clap-clap, and Jack-Jack (dah-dah!).

Apparently, we only speak to you in doubles and you are going to have a very warped understanding of the English language in a few months. But here is the reason this happened: when someone is so cute it’s unbearable, well, it causes a person to stutter! So we really can’t be blamed for this problem, your dad and I. If only you weren't so darn cute!

There are actually a few words you say singularly. Words you picked up yourself. Hey is one of them. And this, “dis”, when you hold things out to show me. And sometimes that- “dat”. (A little of dis and dat.)

Your hair is getting blonder, and your body chubbier. I bite and gnaw on you all day long. Even your spit is sweet to me. (I realize you'll be thoroughly grossed out by the time you're old enough to read this, but it’s true, nonetheless.)

And right now, you think I’m perfect. I hung the moon as far as you know.

It was a heavenly reunion when I got back from the hospital after being away for three days during Madalyn’s surgery. I got you out of your bed at 8 o’clock after Honey had just put you down for the night. You were lying in your crib on your side, playing and babbling in the dark. You looked over your shoulder at the sound of my voice and smiled a smile that said, ‘hey, I remember you!’ I scooped you up with hungry arms and you sat in my lap while we visited with the family, looking back over your shoulder at me over and over with oodles of smiles and drool, double-checking that I was still around, was really home.

Let me take a tangent for a minute here to explain that the reason your smile is so unbearably precious right now is because you have six teeth to show. Your first one came in on March 1^st (I remember because it was your dad’s birthday,) and MAN are those little pearls to die for! (Also something to die by, as you kiss like a vampire with your mouth open wide.) It’s a kiss with a little “bite” in it. You plant your face in my shoulder to kiss me and somehow it ends with a chomp. It’s hard to receive that sort of kiss without tensing up a little, you know? Anyway, back to your milestones….

Another activity you’re thrilled with lately is the pool. You. Love. The pool. You want to live... in the pool. You need one of those ‘No Fear’ shirts with a picture of a pool on it. You watch Evan and Madalyn with wide eyes as they splash around and- party animal that you are- you want in.

You’re the same way about food. When you were still very little, you would hear a McDonald’s bag in the car and immediately cry until someone gave you something out of it. We started out with French fries because, (though high in saturated fat,) they were the softest thing in the happy meal for infant gums. But because of that repeated (and apparently demeaning) experience, you now consider a French fry the ultimate insult; something completely unsuitable for real people. And you’re not a newborn. You are- clearly- just as big as your siblings, HELLO?!

So now it goes like this: you want whatever anyone else has that you don’t. You want this, that, anything and everything. We put it on your tray, you eat it. And then you smack loudly to let us all know just how scrumptious each particular item is, and that it meets your full approval. Num, num, num, you hum as you shovel in the food with a flat hand squashed up against your face and over your eyes.

When you’re done, after a good variety of foods, and when you find yourself completely satisfied, you begin to massage the leftovers into the hair behind your ears. You rub, rub, rub… the nape of your neck… sometimes your face. You could seriously take a bath after every meal, but because this is highly impractical, I wring water over your head with a wet paper towel, leave your food-filled diaper in your seat and call it a wrap.

Your siblings laugh at you. They think you’re a clown. They chant “Jacky, Jacky!” excitedly when I tell them they can go wake you up. They like to play “the Jacky game.” This involves them getting in the swivel chair together and squealing as you crawl towards them, slapping your hands on the tile floor. You squeal, too, because- well they’re squealing. (And because it’s kind of cool that you already have these two older ones submitting to you.) Maybe daddy will make you a Technicolor dreamcoat and we can start calling you ”Joe.”

Evan has always enjoyed playing with you, but since he has been in school two days a week, Madalyn has now had time to form her own thing with her little brother. She finds you a bottle if she thinks you’re upset and brings it to you. She sings with you in the car. You’re the two that adore music of any kind. As soon as I turn on the Veggie Tales cd you start clapping and engaging her in song and dance. The two of you sing and clap all over the town in your carseats, facing each other.

When Aunt Shannon visited she taught you to sing with her. You also dance when familiar shows come on tv, to the Dora theme music, for example. Man, can you Salsa! Gotta tape that. You also boogie with our new Hokey Pokie Elmo. You get perched on one knee and clap the other with the palm of your hand while he sings. All you're missing when you do that is an oat straw sticking out of your mouth because you're already missing a few teeth.

You and Evan still have the brother bond going strong. He tried to make you a bottle once. I also caught him one morning Sumo wrestling you in your crib. He was landing square on top of you and you were cracking up… until you saw me watching. Then you turned on the waterworks and got all “wounded dove” on him. You might want to cut that out now because he IS bigger than you and when you're not so small and cute anymore there could be consequences.

Nicknames. Madalyn’s preferred name for you is “Jacky-boy.” For a while Evan called you Jackano or Jackado, but he hasn’t called you that in a while now. Sometimes we call you Jack-Jack (back to that double word thing,) and daddy has recently started calling you “Shark Bait” like Nemo. Uncle John calls you L.J. or Lil’ Jack from the movie “Meet the Fockers.” Much of the time you’re simply “Baby Jack,” though Evan has already said that when you’re big you’ll be a GranJack, too, like his GranJack. And then, admittedly, we can’t help but appreciate your name every season of 24, as we watch Jack Bauer do his thing. It’s a solid name. It fits you.

You’re strong, intense, independent… a survivor. I’ve found countless choking hazards in your dirty diapers; an entire blue balloon, a petrified worm, and something else I can’t remember right now…hmm…

I’ve also found plastic wrappers, coins, and Lite Brites in your mouth. Just this morning you crawled purposefully towards me with your lips pursed around a sharp pencil pointed straight out of your mouth. And then the whole world has heard about how you crawled to the top of the stairs at least a dozen times before the wide-enough baby gate arrived in the mail.

You’re almost walking but figure you crawl so fast, who needs it? You’ve taken about 4 or 5 steps on your own and will stand for long increments until you’re bored, plop down, and crawl off somewhere.

Neither your brother nor sister crawled that fast... or at all, for that matter. They went right to walking. But you swing your hips with your thighs and knees in a fixed position and fly like a little cartoon all over the house, collecting dirt on your knees to show the world how poorly mopped our floors are. However, you have recently taken to strolling a little pushcart around the house and I could sit and watch you throw those stiff legs in front of yourself all day.

So you crawl… and you pinch. You always have. You pinch with your grasp, and your sweaty little hands are some tools, let me tell you! You pinch my hair, my face, my legs, my clothes. Grasp, grasp, grasp. We’ve mentioned Madalyn has grip tape feet, well you have grip tape hands. I’d place money on you ending up like that incredible man on tv who can use his hands like a wrench to manipulate metal. I have no idea what that means about you. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything, maybe it just is.

I can’t believe how you’re growing and I’m very sentimental it. My last baby.

A few months ago, a bread bag was enough to entertain you at the grocery store, but now you want a cookie like your brother and sister. Your little head swivels towards the bakery upon entering the store. You reach out your hand and take the cookie just as though you were taking a bottle at mealtime. You count on that cookie.

Yes, in just the past few months you’ve gone from being obsessed with the wipes bag and your tongue, to being obsessed with the stairs and the pool. You’ve gone from just starting to sit, to just starting to walk. How to conclude such precious months? Thank you? That’s the prominent emotion; gratitude. I thank your Creator that in keeping with the meaning of your name, you are a gift from God.

Love,

Mama

Labels: baby, Jack, siblings