Life with an 11 Month Old

You know how 17 year olds have a tendency to think that since they are so close to 18, they should probably be treated like they are responsible, mature adults? But the problem is they're not really responsible, mature adults, so they end up causing headaches for everyone.

That's kind of how 11-month-olds are. I'm pretty sure that Libby has decided she is close enough to the big "1 year," so she should be able to do everything that a 1 year old does. Problem is, she really can't do everything that a 1 year old does. You can imagine the ensuing frustration.

Don't get me wrong--she is adorable and perfect and even though I can't imagine how its humanly possible to love her more every day, I really do. She has wonderful, endearing qualities--like her tendency to sleep MORE when teething (like, we're talking until 10 AM most days) and her desire to grin and wave like crazy to anyone and everyone she sees. And the hilarious way she growls when we ask her what an Bobcat says (she has Athens in her blood).

But I can already see the toddler in her, itching to get out and act like a lunatic. In the past weeks, she has decided that eating food is not nearly as fun as throwing it off the high chair to the dogs, so most every meal ends up on the floor. And forget trying to feed her vegetables. She will pick around them, and in recent days, has decided she would only like a menu of fruit and Goldfish, thank you very much. She much prefers to be on the floor exploring than being held, and she'll let you know by whacking you in the face if you try otherwise. She has discovered that by throwing her beloved Bunny out of the crib and crying like crazy during nap time, she can get Mommy to come back in. She refuses to sit in a shopping cart (yes, I'm "that mom" who lets my kid stand on the seat). And any Division I college wrestler would have a hard time controlling her during diaper changes.

I know, most of this is totally typical for a toddler. But she's not a toddler yet! I'm supposed to have one more solid month of sweet, cuddly baby-ness before all of this begins. Sigh.

But really, I have no reason to complain. She loves to look at books in the playroom and will choose them over most any toy. She loves the dogs and cracks up at them all the time. She loves wagon rides (although half the fun is trying to climb out). She loves bath time. She only sucks her thumb when she is tired and holding Bunny. She is perfectly content to crawl for maybe the rest of her life (bonus for me, because I'm dreading chasing a walker around). She says "Bauer" "Dada" and "bye bye." And she is (practically) perfect in every way.