t h e . r i d i c u l o u s . p a n d a

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so how do we celebrate thirteen months alive? how do we toast the month after the big one year? how do we top twelve? well, apparently silas, you look at fish. [oh, and you take your pants off...]
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talk about personality. the november ought-seven version of silas has tons of it. big, overflowing dumptrucks full of personality. so, please, sit back, learn to assert your will like never before, grunt, point and develop a new sleeping habit every week. and we'll keep calling you monkey, shoving chard in your mouth when you're looking the other direction, splish splashing scrub a dubbing, and talking to you on your gorilla/remote/shoe/fork/DVD-phone...
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not once, but twice we took you to the Shedd aquarium this month. behind and in front of the scenes. we discovered early on that unlike zoo animals, fish don't hide. it's so awesome to see you get it. to see you watching and pointing. you even got to see the penguins sleeping at night with all the lights off. part fish, part monkey, all silas...
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going to the Shedd at night was amazing for me too. this is the kind of thing my mom would have done - take us as a family to the best the city has to offer. sitting in a hallway filled with kids running around, eating crackers and cheese. i start to see us as we are, a mama, a papa, a monkey - not just two silly kids and a monkey.
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oh right, the pants. leave it to my son to decide that since it's naptime, first you clear your space by throwing Ice Bat, Jeero, the puppy, the mushroom and the green bean out of the bed. next goes your blanket and the quilt. followed by your socks [i mean, really, who can sleep in socks anyway?]. and the coup de grace? off come the pants. seriously, pants just get in the way of a kickass nap...
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and walking. you've been toying with it for a while, late at night, delirious before bed, giggling and gasping in that asthmatic way you get when you're really having a blast, pushing off the couch and just. standing. there. you fall to your butt and clap with us. you know how do to it, you just don't feel like it. unless, that is, we get you behind the wheels of Pablo's cart or each of us grabs a hand. then you're kicking and sliding and tiptoeing wherever we'll take you. it makes you look a hundred years old.
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so, whether your sleeping till 4am [a great thing] or pushing your beans out of your mouth with your tongue and then throwing them on the floor [a messy thing], you have been being silas more than ever. i am startled by your beauty. i am giddy every time i walk through the door and you point at me with a smile like "hey, that guy! i LOVE that guy!" you reach for me and my heart explodes. you fall asleep in my arms while absentmindedly scratching my beard and i can't imagine there is a bad thing in this world. thanks silas. you and mama are thirteen times better than everything.
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