We made it through the birthday party, my birthday and the ensuing unwrapping and assembling of loot. We've had to put a lot of it into the archive, to be brought out later. The mighty mite is cruising around on his push-walker in the shape of a car, and seems to be seconds from running around on his own. He figured out he can fit under the bed if he tilts his head today, much to my horror. He's totally going to get stuck. I just know it.
I keep meaning to a)write him a letter for his book, b)book a portrait commemorating his first year, and also c)go through his clothes yet again and get rid of all the too short stuff.
I have six weeks left to hang out with him before classes start. It's both eternally long and scarily short.
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