Dear Gibson,

I have been putting this letter off for a while. Just a smidge too long. Because I’m in denial that you’re growing up. As much as I don’t want to admit it…you’re not a baby anymore.

You stand up on your own holding onto the furniture around the house. You’ve figured out how to pet the cats gently. In fact, you know how to say the word “gentle” now. A two-syllable word that’s not a repeated sound…you are blowing my mind! You also say duck, cat, mama or mom, dada or dad, nana, quack-quack-quack, a-doodle-doo and lots of various sounds.

When I came home from work yesterday, stomping in from the snow, you were standing up on your own rattling the baby gate. After a cuddle, we went outside for some time in the snow. I don’t think you’re the biggest fan of it. And your snowsuit already is too small.

But we still got some great pictures.

Speaking of great pictures. Here’s a few from your first ever Christmas morning.

And one of you hanging out with your Nana.

You’re such a little mover and shaker these days. It’s hard to keep you contained. You want to investigate and explore everything. And pretty soon, nothing will stop you. You’ll walk and talk and hardly need your old Mama to help you with anything.

You’re doing great in swim class. Your father reports that Storytime at the library is going well. You’re learning to clap along with the stories and songs as well as play with the shaky eggs and bell sticks.

In short, everything is progressing on schedule. And sometimes that makes me so happy, and sometimes it makes me heartsick. You’ll never be ten months again. I can’t go back in time and experience these moments ever again. I know I have some many great ones to look forward to, but these passing minutes are flying by. I feel like no matter how many photos or video I take or how many letters I write…I’ll never manage to document it all. The bumps and bruises. The sleepless nights when you’re teething. The first time you touched snow. Your first real, full-blown cold. Your first Christmas. Interacting with other children.

And now we’re already thinking about your first birthday. Only a couple months away. What am I going to do with you? Just love you more and more, I suppose.

Love,
Mom