Eli: Version 1.1

So, technically you turned 13 months 2 weeks ago a month ago; but, honestly, my writing muse has been on vacation.  Not sure if she's going to come back.  I would sit down to write you a letter and my mind would go blank.  I wrote a couple sentences but erased them due to their dumb-sounding factor.  I want my letters to you to be sincere and well-written, not just something I whip out of my wee brain on the fly.  So, here it is.  Your 13 and 1/2 month 13 + 1 month letter.  Please contain your excitement.

Thirteen months has been completely different from any other month you've graced us with your presence.  That sounds completely inane, because of course you're going to continue to develop and each month will be different.  But this month was so different from your previous twelve months that I feel you turned into a little boy overnight.  You're no longer my wee baby.  You want to do things on your own.  Explore things on your own.  Eat without me feeding you.  You're even getting too big for me to rock without you getting uncomfortable.  (Don't worry, that weeping you hear is just from my, um, allergies.)

From the minute you wake up to the minute you go to sleep, you are constantly moving.  We are currently in talks with the government to figure out a way to harness your energy for the good of the environment.  Those EPA guys are nice.  You walk everywhere.  Ain't no mountain high enough to keep you from getting to where ever you want to go.  And where you want to go is outside.  Which I completely understand after hibernating in awake mode for the last bajillion months of winter.  I've been able to open up our front door this last month.  If I let you, you would probably stand by the screen door all day.  You love watching people walk in and out of the building, people walk by with their dogs and most of all, the lawn mowers and gators that frequent the front of our building.  You are in love with tractors.  IN LOVE!  I found a note the other day in which you asked one of them to go out with you, circle yes or no. 

Along with moving, we can now add groovin' to your kinesthetic repertoire.  You love to dance.  There doesn't even have to be music; you could hear the bass from a car passing by and you begin busting a move.  It's my favorite thing.  You get this huge grin on your face and bounce up and down and move your arms from side to side.  I've sent in your video for So You Think You Can Dance...we should hear any day now. 

You've become quite the chatter box.  I need translators to interpret, but you're definitely trying to communicate.  So far you say, "mama", "dada", "ball", "yum", and "dat" (which I think is that).  It's amazing to see you try to communicate with us.  You point to everything and say "dat, dat".  If you want milk, you go to where we keep your cups, point and say "dat, dat".  When you want me to pick you up because you hear the gator coming to pick up our trash and you have a weird fascination with seeing it, you come over to me, point outside, and say "dat, dat".  You are such a big boy. 

And big boys don't cry, right?  Right?  I believe this picture was taken after I told you "no, you can't play with those chemicals."  This picture is actually a tad misleading.  You don't really throw tantrums.  When you do, it's because you are uber-tired and are upset with who they sent home on American Idol.   I can usually distract you with a toy from your massive collection.  You do pretty well with "no".  However, now that I've put that out into the universe, you will likely start spewing green goo and rotating your head ala Linda Blair.  You're really quite a wonderful child.  You make my day every day.  I know it exists, but I cannot fathom a joy greater than this.  Now, can we talk about your static electricity infused hair do?