Wet

This boy, this one year old boy, loves to get wet. Every chance he can get. He can open the back door (screen and slider, if it's unlocked) by shoving his weight around. Danger Will Robinson! Which means that since we're having these amazing spring days, the back door is almost always open. And he's almost always outside. Without shoes. Toddling around. Heading for the hose or the water table or the dirt or (rarely, actually) the side of the hill (eek!). So my whole "I'm making lunch" turns into a 30 minute deal of getting him back inside and once there, him heading straight for (you guessed it) the dog bowl.

 Wet. He loves it.

Not sure you can tell, but here he's soaked.

And here, too... after having opened the door, going in and out in and out....

And the essence of fun... water table joy. You'd think I'd learn... it took me 3 days of this before I learned to only put a little bit of water in there. Mom brain. It's still in full swing.

And as we found out yesterday, our strapping, massing boy is only in the 5th percent for weight. FIFTH PERCENT. We are still shocked. The doctor looked at me and said, "Long and lean. Heart surgery or not, it's how you make 'em." And with those words, my dream of a chubby baby went down the drain. I think I'll keep him. Just as he is.

568. having the time to focus on words with ford
569. a night out!
570. seeing friends succeed
571. a place for everything