11 months.

Here's you at 11 months. 

Happy.

Precocious.

Those have been constants in your life.

Thankfully, this month you learned a little bit of the fear, thanks to a few minor injuries in your early early attempts at walking.  This slowed you down a bit, caused you to think about what you were doing instead of just charging full speed ahead. Despite my earlier pronouncement, only now are you really becoming a walker.  And you're so proud of yourself, all grins and laughs at your new found skill.

In the last couple weeks language has begun to dawn on you.  You've been saying mama for quite a while, but now you seem to understand that it applies to me.  Granted, you say it for just about everything else in the world, but it seems to be reserved for things you like so I'm okay with it.  You are also learning "Dada", "No", and "Duck" (though that last one might just be a variant of "Dada").

And you have a boyfriend.  Baby boy S.  Whom you kiss, and hold hands with, and share your toys with.  I find this disturbing.  But crazy cute.  You love your beach ball.  You love when we crawl on the ground with you.  And you love life. 

The other day I was standing in line at Ikea, and you were a hot mess. Your Dad took you to the car while I paid. A teenage girl standing in line behind me asked her Dad "Do you remember when I was that small?" and he smiled and said yes. Then she asked if she was a difficult baby and he laughed a knowing laugh, but didn't answer. It's hard to picture you as that teenage girl, but I know it will happen. And you will ask me that same question, and I will miss all your hot-mess-baby-moments.