Dear Jackson,
You like to stand. A lot.
You've decided to take your time with walking, which is no surprise because your butt-scooting abilities could rival a sprinter's speed, but this month you've taken the next step in taking steps: you're standing now. You pull up on everything. Once you realized you could do it, you did it and it's done everywhere. You pull up on me, your dad, Heidi, the wall. You don't discriminate, if it's vertical you'll try to pull yourself up on it.
And the minute that started happening so did cruising around while holding onto things. You may not walk on your own, but if you have something to hold onto you amble along like it's no big thing. Going from sofa to table to chair, you'll make your way around an entire room.
I'm convinced the walking thing will happen any second now. You like to practice letting go of thing-you're-holding-onto to see how long you can stand on your own. Each time you wobbly stand alone for a little longer.
Walking is coming.
We're not ready.
This month was a fun one because your cousin came to stay with us for a week. You love her weekend visits, so having her here for seven days straight was the most fun thing ever for you. She may be five, but you try to do everything she does and check out everything that she has. Luckily for all of us, she's great at sharing.
You're still talking up a storm. Your daycare teachers tell us that you talk more than any other kid in the room. You also like to share with the other kids, super sweet. You still give kisses, but instead of fish-faced kisses with your lips puckered up, they've morphed into you leaning towards us with a resolutely closed mouth while going mmmmmmmmmm. Again, super cute.
It looks like you're working on your ninth tooth, but, just like you with walking, it's taking its time. I hope it makes its appearance soon.
I've been debating cutting your hair. Straight on top and curly in the back, it's getting kind of crazy. You have some amazing bedhead every morning. Despite the obvious need, I still can't bring myself to cut it off. It's coming though.
Maybe next month.
Love you bunches,
Mom
