Sunday, October 26, 2014

Nathan is 18 months old



My most darling of Nater-tots is eighteen months old! Oh goodness. I'm not going to say it feels like just yesterday that he was born (thank heavens it doesn't because the past year has been one of uncomfortably soul-stretching growth for me...his traumatic birth should have warned me what I was in for!) But I would not trade this darling for a million easy stress-free hours. He is precious. (And crazy.) He is still on the slim side--94th percentile for height and 31st for weight (and I will forever love his pediatrician for saying that he's destined to be "tall and slender like his mama!" which was kind if not altogether true!) but more than makes up for it in sheer personality.

The best way to describe Nathan is this little conversation that Neil and I had last weekend when I was in Utah. I asked him how things were going and he said, "You know how you told me I could not let Nathan out of my sight for one single second?"

"Yes," I said, already having a pretty good idea where this was headed.

"I thought you were exaggerating," he said, heaving a deep sigh. "But you weren't. At all."

And then he had to hang up because Nathan had just run by him with a chicken egg in each hand.


At eighteen months, Nathan has never met a piece of furniture he can't climb, a toothbrush he doesn't love, an animal of whom he is afraid, a food (or a non-food--crayons and markers are a particular favorite) he isn't willing to eat, or an older sibling he doesn't know how to taunt (this is an especial talent--today I saw him climb onto the dining room table where Isaac was doing his homework, carefully walk up to Isaac, put one little foot onto Isaac's paper, and then step back and grin when Isaac began screeching, "Natie alert! Natie alert! Natie on the table! Natie alert!"). He is utterly fearless--when the nurse gave him his shots he gave one outraged yelp and then glared coldly at her until she left the room. (We won't even go into the way he goes after our poor cat!) He has the vocabulary--and lungpower!!--of a much older child and is a force to be reckoned with!
And yet he still manages to be utterly charming. He gives kisses with abandon and a total lack of reservation. He twines his arms around your neck, and puts his little fluffy head down on your shoulder and looks beguilingly into your eyes. He asks sweetly for "tees" and "hippy" (cheese and sippy) and tells you to "doh way!" (go away!) in a tiny voice that is so darling that you can't help but pull him even closer and cover his little cheekies with a million kisses. He plops happily down in your lap at the slightest hint of an impending story, and immediately runs to fetch everyone's shoes if someone mentions the words, "outside," "car" or "go." He is intelligent and cheerful and fascinating and delightful, and I am forever grateful that he is a part of our family. 





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