I'm glad I didn't worry

It seems young Daniel picks up a new skill just as it occurs to us (OK, it occurs only to me) that he's not yet rolling over, crawling, babbling, cruising, walking, eating finger foods, getting teeth, gaining weight, et cetera. Good thing I don't worry because before I know it, he's mastered one skill and is on to the next and the next and the next.

In the past two weeks he's added some new syllables to his vocabulary. I was beginning to wonder if he'd be stuck on da da indefinitely. But he came out with Bob and has even said mama a few times. When he's working on new sounds, he often uses his fingers to manipulate his mouth into making the sounds. He definitely has the timing down, too: he says "Ha" whenever Jim or I walk into a room. And Jim swears Danny asked for his bottle (as in "Dada wa ma baba") and tried to say "bouncy jail" while he was on his way to confinement.

Oh, let me explain bouncy jail ... we're not sadistic parents, we just need to confine him at least once a day in a seat with a spring that hangs in the kitchen doorway. By late afternoon, we're both weary from redirecting him before he learns how to remove the electrical outlet covers or topples a tower of CDs onto himself and tired of saying "No," "don't eat that," "what's in your mouth?" "No, that's Bob's treat," "Leave the CDs, the stereo, the remote control, the phone alone," and "Why don't you play with your toys?" He bounces, I get dinner ready and Jim gets to read the paper. (Yes, I know it all sounds very Ward and June Cleaverish. Oh well. I guess I'm way too secure in my femininity and happy with my life to worry about whether my home resembles a 1950s sit com. Maybe another post brewing?)

That's the funny thing about parenthood. It often seems he'll never outgrow some of the more annoying stages like shrieking because his tongue won't make more melodious sounds or wanting to be carried around all day long or needing to nurse in the middle of the night. Then there are the days I wonder where the brakes are on this ride. He's too precious, he's growing up too fast, he's starting to look like a little boy already, he no longer sits still with me, he practically leaps from the arms he once couldn't get enough of. On the nights he skips the midnight nursing, I miss him. Snuggling his warm little body in my arms almost makes up for the sleep disturbance.

Who am I kidding? It totally makes up for broken sleep.