who is this big boy and what did he do with my baby?

Since he turned one earlier this summer, there have been several times when Garrett has forced me to stop in my tracks and wonder who this big boy is and what did he do with my tiny baby? He has been changing and reaching milestones much faster than he did in his first twelve months, leaving me in constant awe. Here's a peek at what he's like these days.

Making sure Garrett is well-fed has been a battle from day one, but lately, as he's started experimenting with toddlerhood, the stakes are rising. He's good at eating table foods, unless it's vegetables, which he'll still only eat pureed. Anything he's not interested in eating gets hurled to the floor (and anytime his curiosities about gravity need fulfilling, he'll toss favorite foods over the edge, too. This typically signifies that mealtime is over). Though his skills in the Proper Use of Utensils Department are still seriously lacking, he prefers to use the fork and spoon himself. For a boy only thirteen months old, his attempts aren't half bad. After a few stabs, with different hand-holds, at a slippery piece of food, he's usually successful. He hasn't, though, figured out that the point of getting food onto a fork is to transport it to your mouth, and therefore usually uses his free hand to pull the food off and eat it. His nimble fingers have also translated to an ability to hold his bottles and sippy cups himself (though, when I really need him to just finish his milk already, I'll still cuddle with him on the couch and hold it for him). With his ability to self-feed, his Menu of Favorite Foods has increased dramatically. He loves, among other things, animal crackers, cut up pieces of fresh fruit (especially grapes, nectarines, plums, bananas, and peaches), bread and jam, raisins, meatloaf, and banana muffins. These loves, though, were not haphazardly developed: the inspection process all foods must go through is rigid. First a new food is fingered, then it's smelled, then licked, and, if it's passed the tests thus far, it is inserted into his mouth. If he's still pleased, he'll eat it and beg for more; if not, he'll shake his head until the food dribbles back down his chin. He is more easily distracted these days, which makes mealtimes last a lot longer, but he makes up for it by engaging in lively dinner conversations which I can only pretend to understand.

Garrett's ever-increasing mobility has been taking him all sorts of places. He can't sit still anymore. He crawls (which occasionally looks less gimpy, especially when he's wearing his new high-top Converse sneakers, which make it more difficult for him to propel himself on one leg), easily pulls himself to a stand (on me, on furniture, on walls, etc), cruises along furniture, walks, so long as I'm holding his hands (he's recently gotten brave enough to continue walking even if I'm only holding one of his hands), and reaches, pushing himself up on tip toe for even more alluring discoveries. And he does all this with the speed of lightning. The results are a messier apartment (he leaves a trail of abandoned explorations in his wake, so it's never difficult to find where he's hiding) and more bumps and bruises. Oh, and smashed fingers. He is fascinated by doors, drawers, and knobs, and while he's learned how to open and close these hinged objects, he hasn't yet learned that it's a good idea to keep his fingers out of the way when he does. He also hasn't picked up on the fact that stuck fingers won't be going anywhere unless he releases the pressure he's putting on the drawer/door doing the smashing. This results in lots of sad, strong screams. I have to tell him "no" an awful lot. Like when he wants to stand up in the tub. Or when he wants to press the power button on the computer. Or when his fingers get too curious at the electrical outlet. Or when he wants to turn the knobs on the stove or push buttons on the microwave. And even while the word "no" doesn't mean much to him yet (because he usually doesn't obey), he understands the meaning of my tone of voice (because when I tell him "no," he usually starts to cry).

Garrett, like most babies, has always had the ability to melt the hearts of strangers, but lately he's become more aware of his ability to flirt. And flirt he does -- incessantly! On the sidewalk, in a shop, or on the subway, you'll catch him smiling to catch the eyes of others, waving to them when they acknowledge him, clapping his hands to play, and babbling in response to their coos. He even flirts with himself: anytime he catches sight of his own reflection, he smiles and waves. Generally speaking he is a very happy little boy. He loves tell you all about his adventures, but in case you can't understand, he'll grin and scrunch up his nose. Garrett loves to play. Currently, his favorite game is Chase, the rules of which are simple: assume that someone wants to chase you and run away as quickly as you can, checking back occasionally to make sure they really are chasing you. If they're not, laugh and start running again; you'll soon have roped them in to playing. But life is not all giggles and grins. He actually spends a good part of his days whining and screaming. And when he gets upset (and by "upset," I really mean "hopping mad"), he throws his back out and bangs his head on the hardwood floor -- over and over. And then he cries because he hurt himself. It's a vicious, self-defeating cycle. I really think he might be teething again because His Royal Cranky Pants is starting to drive me crazy.

Ah well, he's in bed now. He's a sweet boy when he's sleeping. His earlier bedtime has prevented him from joining us as we keep our eyes glued to the Olympics, but that doesn't mean he's not absorbing fragments from his crib. I will leave you with a video, taken this evening, of Garrett's attempt to try out for the Men's Gymnastics team. He didn't make the cut, but I'm sure you'll still find his floor routine quite stunning.