Have I told you that Jack calls me Mommy? Well, he does. I enjoyed years of Mama from first Harry and then Jack, but in the last week, Harry made the switch from Mama and Dada to Mommy and Daddy. Ever the worshiper of his brother, Jack followed suit, and just like that, Mama is gone.
Jack was quiet for so long, he'd only really been saying Mama for 6 months. Now, he says all of our names: Mommy, Daddy, and Harr-eee. And his own name, Me.
He turns 2 next Friday, and we'll celebrate with cupcakes for breakfast and a playground picnic and our regular Little Gym class and a mound of presents that Harry will surely steal and possibly break.
When Jack was 4 weeks old, he started crying and didn't stop for two months.
I don't remember those 8 weeks, just a few stolen moments. Coming down from the shower and finding Ben and Jack both asleep on the couch, one worn out from running laps around the living room with a squalling baby, the other from squalling. Taking the boys to the park and watching people glare at me while Jack screamed and Harry played. Once Jack erupted at the end of my hair cut, and I left him screaming in his carseat while my stylist finished my bangs because I knew if I picked him up, he'd cry in my face.
One day, he stopped crying and lived happily ever after.
He calls all blankets "yellow" because that's the name (and color) of Harry's favorite blanket. He still loves Bebe and takes her with him everywhere. He does everything Diego tells him to, and he calls himself big boy when he uses the potty. He can tell you that he is going to be two (dew), and he can hold up approximately 2 fingers-- sometimes more, sometimes less. In the morning if I am at the sink doing my hair or makeup, he climbs into my bed and smacks the pillow next to him telling me, "Mommy. Pillow. Snuggle. Me." He gives loud, wet kisses, and he likes to drink dirty bathwater.
When he was a baby, we called him Squishy because, well, look at him:
Now he's Monkey Jack or Jack o'Monster because his missions are to scale and destroy everything he sees.
What's really great about him though, is that he saves me from my own writerly bad instincts. I can't say something trite and flat like "everything about him is sweet" because he has really bad breath in the morning, and he bites when he's angry.
Thanks, Jack. I can't imagine my life without you.