I started to write a big long-winded post about our trip to the doctor today. Then I reminded myself that this blog post is supposed to be part of the 30-minute blog challenge. So, I erased it. Not only would it take too much time, it also wouldn’t do me much good to rehash everything that happened or the way it made me feel. But I do want to clear one thing up, I am not spoiling my child.
Spoiling refers to rotten fruits and vegetables. Things that have gone bad, truly bad.
My one-year-old babe is far far from being spoiled.
He is funny.
He is loved.
He has two parents that would go to the moon and back for him.
He can build towers of three blocks now.
He figured out how to stack his stacking rings, though not in the proper order yet.
He turns the pages of books.
He communicates, having perfected his sign for milk and up. Saying his version of “bye-bye,” “all done” and “uh-oh.”
He loves to play tag.
He loves to cuddle and give kisses in the morning.
He adores being rocked to sleep.
He counts on having us there when he wakes.
He can spend hours running around the house with his wheely bug.
At the park the swing is the most amazing thing in the world to him, until he goes on the slide. Then, that is the most amazing thing.
He is truly captivated by the world and what goes on around him. He watches. Listens. Tests and tries. He discovers new things daily, hourly.
He is an amazing little person and I am so proud and honored to be his mama.
And, one more time just so we’re clear, he is not a rotting vegetable. And in case you wanted to check for yourself, I offer this evidence.
See, I told you.