Our little Emmett will be one year old a week from today. Just in this past week, I feel as though I'm watching my son grow up before my eyes. In the past couple days, he has had his first bites of pizza, his first bean burrito from Taco Bell (also technically his first kid's meal) and his first whole grapes. Aside from the food factor, he's chatting up his sister left and right, mocking her screams and waving good-bye to every passer-by.
Standing up? Not so much. But crawling like a little race horse? You betchya.
He's sitting in a booster seat, rather than a high chair (only at Grandpa & Grandma's - we haven't invested in a second booster seat, yet). He had dessert with his dinner. He'll throw a ball and chase after it. He'll play with a doll and declare happily, "Baby!" He chases after the big kids and wants to join in.
But on the same token, my nearly-one-year-old is still very much an infant.
He still takes his morning nap, and is happy to do so. He still nurses three times a day. He still enjoys Cheerios for his snack and he still can't eat on his own with a utensil (granted, he hasn't had many opportunities). He still doesn't understand the command "Come here" (ok, maybe that's my pretending he doesn't understand - I prefer that theory to the thought that he is purposely ignoring me).
He's just my perfect little boy, growing up, but, thankfully, taking his time doing so.