Spoonfulls.

Recently I was paid a complement by a reader of this blog who very much likes the straightforwardness of what he reads. There is no, "my baby is the best baby and compared to your stinky baby my baby is Einstein and Gandhi and your babies are dumb."  I appreciate him noticing. My life, and Desmond's are not a contest. Before I was a Mom I have been a storyteller, a professional artist, an employee of a multinational public company, friend to many, family to some, a good cook, a reader, I used to like cats. I'm still those things. I hope to never measure my life by the successes of my child. I am here to help him succeed, to learn, to love him unconditionally. I hope I can give him the tools and help him identify the goals by which he measures his success. I'm here to love him. My job is to love him and teach him to learn from and be kind to everyone he meets. He is a tiny man in a big world. Right now the challenges are small. Spoons are a good place to start:

Eleven Months. Really? Can't be.

Phhhbt. Eleven months.

I suppose its true. 11 months have passed like the blink of a eye. Yikes.

• Baby D can say the following: Achoo! He mimics us when we sneeze and this is the funniest thing, ever. Also, when he feels like it: Mama, Dada, Kitty, Doggie, Uh-oh and Ball. And the occasional nom nom nom.
• There are perfect blonde curls appearing at the back of D's head. They are perfect after a bath, and smooshy after a nap.
• Popeye arms. Hammy legs. 
• D can pull up on the furniture and toys and then let go and stand on his own until he realizes that he is standing on his own and promptly sits.
• The kitties are learning to run away.
• Blueberry yogurt is the most delicious food in the world.