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

silas lee, we've been staring at you for one whole month. we still can not believe that you are here and that you'll be here for as long as we can imagine. this month has been amazing, but perhaps intense is the better word for it. everything about you has been that way. the speed at which you made your entrance, the way you cry at four in the morning and the way you stare at the ceiling fans - all intense.

so far, sam and i have just been trying to figure this all out. i made him promise early on to make me laugh, a genuine laugh, once a day. your papa has pulled this off everyday, no problem.

the first three weeks, we were all three together. figuring out diapers, avoiding baths, going for walks, hosting well-wishers and asking our friends nicely to bring us meals.

oh, the visitors you have had! everyone wants to have a look at you, some even want to hold you and most have had a hard time handing you back over when we decide it's time to get back to just the three of us.

as of yesterday you weigh eleven pounds and one ounce. you've gained two pounds and four ounces since you were born. your pediatrician called this respectable. we'll take it.

to celebrate today's calendar accomplishment we took you to the diner. sam and i toasted our coffee mugs and all the waitresses wanted a peek at you. then we took you to the market to buy pineapples. then you spent the rest of the afternoon resisting a nap. a most impressive show of resistance. you finally caved at 6pm. when you woke at nine we celebrated you further with a leisurely bath. your reaction to the bath is exquisite - quiet contemplation and consistent attempts to dip your head far into the water. we weren't expecting you to love being in the bath so much, but you surprised us.

i can't wait to see what the next month has in store for us. but i don't want to anticipate too far ahead, there is way too much going on in the every moment. thanks, little baby. you totally rule.

silas lee, you are two months old. two months of you in our lives.
how ridiculously lucky are we?

you are finally starting to grow on us. a little bit of eye contact and
a few small smirks of amusement have opened up a whole new part
of my heart. when we lay you down in bed at night and kiss your hands
as you fall asleep, part of me can't wait for you to wake up to eat
because i know you will see your sleepy smile again.

this month, i think sam and i finally started to figure out what all
your crying is about. one cry for hunger, one cry for sleepy, one cry
for "you're blocking my view of the ceiling fan," one scream for
waking up before you were completely ready, one cry for getting out
of the bath before you are satisifed and your most frequent cry to just be held.

you are so very happy when you are standing and bouncing, bouncing,
bouncing in our laps and when you first wake up in the morning and
are still laying lazy in bed with us. now you've started to talk, make
noises, in response to us and because of faces we make.

this month, we left you with your first official baby sitters, brad and kelly,
when we went to sam's company holiday party. brad also introduced you to a
stuffed penguin that has almost usurped the ceiling fan as your bestest
friend. when i think you're working on a burp over my shoulder, you're
really just smiling and cooing at the penguin.

your papa and i always talk about how fortunate we are that you are the
person that has moved into our lives. how fun you are, how it already
seems like you have your own sneaky sense of humor and how you wrinkle
your brow in serious contemplation at the world around you.

but yesterday when we were dressing you after your two month
checkup (13 lbs, 25"!) it occurred to me that you got it pretty good too.
two parents, standing over you, getting in each other's way trying to
change your diaper, snap up your pajamas, put on your hooded sweatshirt.
two parents singing quiet songs to you, telling you how brave you were
while getting your first vaccinations. your papa and i always waiting for
the other to show the first sign of fatigue while holding you so we
can step in and have a turn. and now, you are sleeping fast asleep with your
heavy breathing in your sling while i type away. silas lee, we are so completely
fascinated by you. thanks for being the most perfect litte baby for us.

oh silas, how you make us laugh. it's been three months of pure entertainment around this place. everyday we laugh at something new: a face you make, a sound you produce.

earlier this month, i spent lots of time researching what the perfect toy might be at this stage in your motor development, what object would be so undeniably enticing that you just had to reach out and grab it. we took quite a few walks to the toy store to peruse their selection of flashy baby things. even though you flex your hands and often swipe at the objects we hold in front of you, sam discovered that nothing gets you to reach out and grab so consistently as our fat grownup thumbs. it's almost as if the sight of our thumbs taps into some perfect baby grasping accuracy.

you have given us hints of your general amusement for quite a while now: non-stop conversations when prompted, great monologues on the whole baby experience from your point of view, frequent smirks and occasional high pitched sighs of contentment.

but the other night, you just full out let loose into giggle mode. we had just finished dinner and i took you off your papa's lap so you could look at him for a change. a few bounces on the knee, a crazy face from sam and you were in full laughter mode. it was, without question, the best sound that we have ever heard. so pure and clean.

during your third month, you spent a full day with papa while i traipsed off to get recertified in tax preparation. i came home to you both relaxing on the couch, a pile of read baby books , a sparkling bathroom, clean laundry and a whole roll of half naked baby pictures. you'd think sam was interviewing for my job.

silas, you and i went to see our first matinee. sure, your papa and i took you to see borat when you were just two weeks old, but this month we hit the movies alone. i predicted maybe i'd get to see an hour of dreamgirls before you decided you'd had enough, but how wrong i was. you woke up moments into the opening number and stayed awake for the ENTIRE movie. you nursed twice, burped efficiently and quickly got back to watching the movie. the only time you complained was when i had you over my shoulder, the illuminated exit sign had nothing on the big screen and you let me know very clearly that you didn't appreciate missing any of the musical numbers. and apparently you are a big fan of mr. eddie murphy, babbling loudly every time he came on the screen. the only time i was concerned with disturbing the other movie patrons was near the end of the film, when you decided to fervently & noisily slurp on your fist.

but our daily adventures are all just a prelude to the moment when we hear your papa's key turn in the front door. it takes you a few moments to register his returned presence, but once you do the evening takes on a whole new energy. just the other night, after four straight hours of playing with papa and a bath you fell asleep and stayed that way for seven hours. we couldn't believe it when i woke up to nurse you at five am. of course, you haven't slept that long since, but it was nice of you to tease us with what you are capable of.

to celebrate your three monthaversary today, we suited you up in your best duds and treated ourselves to a morning yoga class at bloom.

you cooed and babbled to the other babies, cried when i left you on your stomach too long while doing the cobra and then fell asleep on my chest during the final meditation. i've done alot of yoga over the years, had a lot of time to relax and meditate at the end of classes, but today was a whole different experience. feeling your entire body, the weight of your head to your wiggling toes, on top of me while lying on the floor, actually sensing the moment that your eyes closed by the change in your breathing - it was fantastic. then we walked home in the bright january afternoon sunshine.

thanks, silas, you honestly make our everyday even more ridiculous.

silas lee, this is the month that you turned on the charm.

late in january i took a deep breath and geared you up for a day downtown with grandma ruth. we spent hours wandering around the art institute. we paced in the darkened ando room, you stared at japanese warrior statues, figures of buddha and examined african wood carvings. it was amazing, you were amazing. it was one of those afternoons that i will never forget, you blew my expectations away.

earlier this month you sort of stopped talking. at first we didn't notice, you really only babbled on the changng table and when we were reading you books. but after a few days we realized how unchatty you'd become. sam and i tried to engage you in conversation but you didn't really seem interested. so we laid off and figured you'd come back around when you were ready. apparently you're ready. midfebruary your verbosity returned and we've barely been able to shush you since.

your sounds and words are completely different than what they were before. much more coo-y, sigh-y and a lot of throaty rolls. it's totally crazy. did i mention that you talk ALL of the time? even when you start to fuss and cry, you'll stop every few wails to interject a sentence filling us in on the details of your emotional state. oh, and the drool. holy lord, the drool that comes out of your mouth. anything that comes near your mouth you gift with a fine sheen of your drool. not only do we have to change your shirt a few times a day, but i see sam in a full selection of his pocket tees in one weekend. we're just going to blanket the drooling, the gnawing on our knuckles and leading with your mouth towards every object as "teething." that way people just smile and nod instead of looking completely grossed out at our slobberly wonderboy.

silas, you haven't backed down in the face of old man winter this month. you've slept through long wintery walks, squinted into the bright snow and become a regular at our local, warm coffeehouse. granted, you and i have had long days of trying to amuse ourselves indoors.

but that's the best thing about you, silas, you are really psyched about almost everything.


this month we started visiting the library on a weekly basis and checking out books for you. i love holding books out in front of you and adding to our pile whichever one you lunge for first. they say you can't judge a book by its cover, but so far you've done a decent job. but your favorite place is still the bath. you've figured out that not just kicking your legs makes the bath fun but flinging your arms all around causes much splashy splasherness. i usually have only one eye open because water is flying all over the place. it is hilarious and you are so serious and intent about making the most of your time in the tub. it's almost as if it's your job.

what else, what else? your papa and i made you a cherry pie to celebrate you coming into our lives four months ago today. we marked it with an "s" and waited until you fell asleep to eat it. we can't believe how great you are. how incredibly much we love you and how different you look to us every day. i swear you grow longer every night and you hair gets foofier every time you nap.

silas lee, you are the best thing to wake up to after your papa leaves for work in the morning. you have the sweetest cheeks to kiss goodnight and the best smelling neck to nuzzle. we can't believe you've only been around for four months. so awesome, that's you.

well, holy jalapenos. silas lee, you are five months old.
five months. what to say? what to write? oh, yes, i know. silas lee, we are exhausted.

the past month has been chock full like we never understood chock full to mean before. yep, we've been busy just hanging out around the house (exploring every room, drawer, closet, wall hanging, mirror & good spots to just laze about for awhile),

going for walks, adapting our going out clothes to the warmer weather, practicing yoga, meeting friends at the library and riding the train.

but, you've also conquered a ton of new stuff this month: we started a fitness class that more often than not is more like a personal trainer for mama. nobody shows up for class, and I get to benchpress you forty times while you laugh with Martha, the instructor, like mama trying to get in shape is just the funniest thing your little baby brain could ever imagine. you've been to the nature museum, the mca, the lincoln park zoo (twice!), & for a weekend away in wisconsin. but the big thing is the teeth.

oh my, how the teeth have changed your every day. everything you touch goes right the mouth. everything i give you comes back with teeth marks in it: your rattles, puzzle pieces, potatoes.

so, because of all these changes, you just aren't sleeping. well, okay, let me rephrase that, you are sleeping but you're fighting it with every ounce of your being and you wake up every two hours just to cry hello and either bounce with papa or eat some more. why do you wake? why? this is the question that sam and i have presented to each other the most over the past month. why? the answer: no idea. the books tell us this is why babies wake up: they get teeth or their teeth hurt or they learn a new skill or they're ready for more than just breastmilk or they are now light sleepers or a general growth spurt. sam and i say yes to all of these reasons. we note your recent rollovers from back to front and the one time you rolled from front to back and scared the bejesus out of yourself. we started giving you tastes of banana in the mornings and a spoonful or two of rice cereal at night. in typical silas fashion, you don't get overly geeked out about either, just real contemplative.

so, you wake up alot and then you go right back to bed. no biggie right? except, your mama isn't sleeping. that's right, the champion sleeper of the family has lost her touch. i lay awake waiting for you to wake up, wondering if we're messing you up with all our various attempts at parenting. you're sleeping fast asleep. your papa's snoring and i'm trying to recite complete movies from start to finish in an attempt to lull myself to sleep.

yesterday morning, i finally turned to your papa and said "we need a crib. now." so in typical sam fashion, he had a crib set up and ready to go within six hours. we laid you down and you looked around. you looked at us. you found the mirror (thanks, priya!) that we attached to the rail. you promptly flipped onto your side, grabbed the mirror with both hands and fell asleep. just like that. amen.

so there you go. i guess you're all right with all the changes. you might skip your afternoon nap for a week or two, but it certainly won't stop you from being in the best mood ever for the rest of the time. charming everyone you meet, giving the slow smirk to the deserving and the patient.

sam and i were talking the other night about the craziness of this all. i asked him if he thought we had decided to have a baby to soon and he answered quite simply, if we would have waited we wouldn't have you. and you, silas lee, are what matters.

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six months. this is surreal. we don't have a newborn anymore. we barely have a baby. with teeth and rolling all destroyed in the fifth, the perfect number six was spent processing. the information spills across your face, with your hands clasping and clenching, you lunge for what you want, you will pick a white speck of paper off our gray couch. you stare at us and think. i can see you thinking.
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that thinking wakes you up at night, but mostly you're hungry. argh, you're hungry. this month we stretched the boundaries of your taste buds with everything from peas to pears to parsnips to squash to sweet potatoes to avocado. you're eating things i won't and without hesitation. you treat food like you treat people - initial concern, then open arms and big smiles, complete happy acceptance. we can't give you enough things to love.
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because that is you silas. happiness. and with each new day and week and month, you're happiness is getting louder and more external. you giggle and squeal. you laugh and smile. you roll and kick. the neighbors below will know your happiness. it overflows and infects everything around you. our home explodes with your happiness.
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you spin 360's in your crib. we put you to bed and you play by yourself for half an hour. you wedge your head, your feet, your arms into every corner and crevice. sometimes you get stuck, but mostly you just flip somersaults and do back bends. it's inspiring.
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one half of a year. you've had visitors, female callers, family and friends. this month, this perfect sixth month, you took swimming lessons, took mama to the shower, took me to a part of chicago i've never seen, took many naps. you took your time.
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but most of all, you were just silas. we are in awe of you. we sit and stare at your face. i see myself in that perplexed looked of squished up concern. i see your mama in that relentless joy. i see you in those ridiculous blue eyes. and i am humbled. what a month.
-with love, papa
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a complete seven months, silas lee.

i remember the first time i brought you to baby yoga at bloom. you were exactly three months old and the woman sitting across from us introduced herself and her baby with the disbelief that she already had a seven month old. i remember thinking "holy crap, seven months. she's a true professional. she's had a baby FOREVER. where does she get off being all wide-eyed and crazy like me, an actual newbie?!" well, hello, our time has come.

we have to start introducing ourselves as the parents of a seventh month old (which for the record we started practicing in nyc last weekend). and believe you me i am just as wide eyed and surprised as i was at the whole thing when you, silas lee, were just an itty bitty teeny tiny three month old. so what comes around goes around, i suppose.

we barely feel comfortable referring to you as a baby any more. you still totally act like one at times, but you barely seem like one, if that makes any sense. quite often, with no prompting our friends refer to you as a little man. and i think it's quite fitting: you have a funny little bald spot, all your pants fit you strangely and you usually get quite pissy in the late afternoon.

but what about this past month, how are you different than when we last spoke at six months? ah yes, the mobility. silas lee, you are a rolling fool. you roll for everything, clear across the room. we barely have the chance to put a toy far enough away from you and give you the "go for it" cheer before you are halfway there. grunting and reaching.

the best part is that you don't even register the clunks when your head hits the hardwood floor. you just keep on going. lately, in this household, we say "clunk!" more than anything. because, of course, your papa and i like to alert you to your big headed talent.

you popped out a third tooth this month. right on the bottom, next to your first two. much to your delight, you now have your very own toothbrush. nothing has fascinated you more than watching us brush our teeth. you look equally interested and freaked out whenever we brush so it's funny to see you take it so seriously when it's your own turn.

and the functionality of your chompers has also been discovered. you like to gnaw on everything: breakfast o's, spoons, apples, backpack straps, shoes, bananas, blankets. even sitting out on the balcony while helping me water our garden, you've been heard chewing on a rock or two.

the past couple of days have been a bit rough on all of us. you came home from nyc with a new strain of stuffy nose. the complications don't rear their pissy heads until it's time for you to sleep so nap times have been a challenge.

you cry, you smear your snot, you call out in congested consonants the injustices of that moment. when i finally get you to close your eyes and relax, i can't help but wonder about how much i suck at this part of my job. but then last night papa gets home from work and his big bike helmet and funny sunglasses are enough to snap you back into silasness. last night you and sam bounced and laughed so much after dinner that when he handed you over to me to nurse one more time before sleeping you were straight up sweaty. little beads of perspiration on your forehead, enough that i could spike your hair up on top and slick the rest down. your nose had finally started to clear up enough that you didn't have to pull off every few drinks to breathe. so you laid with me and nursed and hung your fingers on my lip. it was perfection. then while sam was reading books to you before bed, you laid your head on my chest to listen. we looked at each other in disbelief. you've never been a cuddler. i think that was the first time you had stopped all the rolling, lunging, and bouncing and just snuggled.

and i was so thankful. thankful for sam, thankful that you have two different parents to console you, thankful that a boatload of boogers is our biggest concern, and thankful for you. thankful that you, silas lee, chose to be a part of our family. honestly, you've made an excellent choice. sam and i were having quite a good time before you showed up and now that you're here, we're just starting to understand how much more ridiculous it can be.

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eight months. two thirds of a year. "oh hey, yeah, we have an eight month old." silas, they handed you to us and sent us home eight months ago and you've been here every day, every night for eight months.
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we threw you into the fire [well at least metaphorically, in reality, we just held you while we sat near the fire] to start your july. like NYC before it, and living with us in general, you took camping in stride. it shouldn't, but it always amazes us that we keep pushing you into new things with reckless abandon and you just blow some saliva bubbles and keep smiling.
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you're making friends like crazy, some from around the corner and some from around the world. we got to see them all this month, and you politely tried to eat their heads. there are so many babies. it's crazy to see an entire generation wildly flailing their arms into existence. and albeit i'm biased since we surround you with the babies of people we like, but i'm starting to think we're going to be alright. these kids are excellent.
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your tastes are refining, your tiny little motor skills are revving up. you've eaten everything from broccoli to mango to udon to kale. and the only thing you've made the most terrible face at was today – spinach, mama's favorite. so we mashed it up with some aguacate and while you weren't fooled, well, at least you ate it. while your tastes broadened, your fingers tightened, on anything within your grasp. it's amazing to watch you work. but the truth is, and always has been – no food, no toy, no block will ever compare to a good mouthful of papa's Sabres hat...
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and playing with you has just gotten better. today you actually reached for me. seriously. you've never done that before. and in addition to your all time favorites [blocks and the wicker basket from brad], mama stocked you up with some new, awesome things to slam around, suck on and tear apart – including some bee maracas and your very own all-purpose utility cloth [dyed awesome colors by cabbage! turmeric! mullberries and tea!].
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so yeah, i'm going on and on, but eight months is a big deal, and this eighth month has been chock full of ridiculous goings-on. Cubs games, father's day dance parties, dips in Lake Michigan, gay pride parades, camping trips... we know there's a fourth tooth sneaking around under there somewhere [and maybe even a fifth], and i know you can crawl, you're choosing not to just now. but through all the cranky whining and very very unpredictable sleeping schedule [7 hours, 2 hours, 4 hours, a half hour...] this month, i have never felt like more of a family. i have never known a relationship like ours. and i think you are eight months awesome and eight months excellent...
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how did we get here? you, me and sam. all of us sitting stunned at the nine monthaversary of your birth. i looked at the clock today ten minutes after the moment you were born. we were playing on the couch together. i was burying my head in your belly, you were doing your part giggle/part cackle/part shriek and i glanced over your shoulder at the clock. 11:49. but, silas lee, you don't care about such silly things. ever since that moment that you finally entered our lives, you haven't looked back.

every day your papa and i are in amazement over what you can do. it's almost as if you come up with something new every twenty four hours. you scoot, you laugh at our jokes, you clap, you laugh at your own jokes, you come when we call, you climb, and so on.

i think i have called sam every day at work in the past two weeks just to report on you and how amazing you are. yesterday it was high pitched singing yourself to sleep at naptime, today it was making this face every time you threw a ball.

we love hanging out with you. silas lee, you are excellent company. we love taking you places, going for long walks, giving you different foods and watching you react to new situations. now you see small things. it is awesome to point out butterflies and beetles to you and watch you follow them with your sleepy eyes and try and sort it all out. so far, so good.

i guess the best way to explain you at nine months is to tell the story from the nature museum. eliza and i wanted to see a lecture and the organization putting it on offered free child care for the hour of ina may. i hesitated, balked and argued that there really was no good reason to leave you for an hour. eliza dragged us to the room, told me to buck up, planted georgia at your feet and pulled me out. and i sat and listened and enjoyed an hour of paying individual attention to something other than you. but as soon as the lecturer said her thank you's, i shot out the door back to the room to pick you up. and there you were, a whole hour gone by, and i realized how much i had missed you. the woman holding you turned to me and said "who's son is this? is this your baby? because he is just amazing. just the sweetest and loveliest little boy. really." and i was so proud. because i knew she meant it and i knew she was right. i knew that it's okay to leave you in capable hands for awhile because that's the only way that other people are going to get to know you on your terms. and, silas lee, you are so worth getting to know.

to celebrate your day today, we took it easy. we lazed around the house after your morning nap and ate a peach in the living room. we danced to tito puente. we met lisa for lunch. we took the walk home slow and waited for the sprinklers to hit us. we read lots of books instead of taking an afternoon nap. we ate an apple on the couch while watching jeopardy. we went to your new pediatrician and you sat and wailed on sam's lap while they drew blood. we took you home and ate dinner while singing bruce springsteen songs. we gave you a warm bath and put you to bed an hour early.

in a few hours, you'll wake up hungry and sam will sleepily bring you into bed with us. you'll pass out milk drunk with one foot on my belly, a few fingers on sam's chin. in the morning you'll be ready to go, doing that crazy giggle that lets us know that you're really awake, awake not able to be nursed or back rubbed back to sleep. and another day begins.

you, my darling, are our sweet boy. thanks.

ten months old. our "holy crap what are we going to do with this brand new person" person is ten months old. sam and i have been official parents for a whole ten months. that's a good substantial amount of time. and i can say, without a doubt, that we are doing an awesome job. i know this because you, silas lee, are the most fantastic person i have ever met.

this month has been all about summer. delicious summer, more summer than i have ever experienced. so much summer to drink in: sunshine, rainstorms, fresh peaches, bluberries for every meal, tanned toes, swimsuits and sand in every crevice.

i was never a warm weather person before i met you. now, i cross my fingers in the morning and hope that it'll be above eighty degrees so we just have to spend the day at the beach or pool.

you are fearless at the beach. at home, i can't go to the bathroom without you protesting my being out of your line of vision, but at the beach i am merely your ride. you'll crawl from our blanket almost to the shoreline before you look back to see if i am coming. most of our time is spent evaluating whether or not it's a good idea to put that thing or another in your mouth. small sticks=eh, menthol butts=probably not.

this tenth month has been crazy busy. we celebrated all things silas at your forty week party. sam and i promised to share with you the absolute joy in the everyday, but you're already well on your way to figuring that out for yourself.

full jumps while holding on to the edge of your crib, shaking your head like a maniac anytime you hear rocking tunes, laughing hysterically while straddling papa's neck, double kicks while laying in the bathtub, shrieking in the face of oncoming lake waves, double palm banging on tables, pulling every dvd and book off of shelves, shoving fistfuls of seaweed salad into your mouth, flubbing your bottom lip whenever the mood strikes, clapping yourself to sleep, tossing everything within grabbing distance off of the end of your changing table. absolute joy in the every day. easy cheesy.

your papa also rearranged our home this month. giving you, the smallest member of our faily, the largest living space. and what a lovely space it is: lots of new spots for us to take your picture, a small nook for you to scoot into and play, piles of books.

but we still agree on keeping you in bed with us for some of the night. this tenth month, more than before, i have had to keep reminding myself that you are still a baby. our baby. and more than anything we love having you close.

ten months. and there's so much more.

eleven months today, what a day.

a day that probably looked, to most others, as just a typical regular day. waking up early in bed in between us, mama and papa. we know that you are really awake, awake when you do that roll over onto your belly, forehead dug into the bed, downward dog, toes pushing up, up until you roll over on your butt, sit up and utter your first word of the day (the same word most every day since you have attached it to the person) "papa!" we give you books, water bottles, hair ties, anything to buy us a few more minutes of eyes closed while one of us always has a grip around your ankle.

we ate a small breakfast (peaches, cottage cheese and breakfast o's) while sam gets ready for work. suit up, tie you on in the bali wrap and head out the door by 7:30. we take the train a few stops with papa and get off at the farmer's market, waving goodbye on the platform as the train pulls away.

we were unstoppable buying up apples, peppers, cauliflower, rye bread, potatoes, chard, raspberries and the most amazing grapes i have ever tasted. we stuffed ourselves on berries, grapes, slices of pears and cubes of cheese while walking (or as i have learned to call it "the second breakfast"). then we returned home for a nap, followed by a leisurely late morning photo shoot and a long walk to the library.

but that's not even the half of it & i suppose that's kind of my point. we could have a huge day of museum going and fancy lunches, fly to the coast and go for a walk in a bamboo forest or sit around throwing toys down a mailing tube and it would be the best time ever.

because of you, silas lee. you have completely changed our world, our daily life. you have made our typical day now defined as completely excellent and ridiculously fun.

sure, there are days when mr. pissypants or senor naps-nada rears his ugly head. but, whatever, we have a damn baby. that's crazy. sam and i still think it's crazy that we ended up dating much less getting married and having a baby.

but, here you are. this month has been a blur of everything. you've started talking intelligible words, you've started signing, we can now play with you instead of at or around you. you'll still eat anything. we tried to push your palate this month and you were barely shaken. there was one brief look of "holy crap" when we ate some super spicy mustard greens but then you were over it in like two seconds and ate a bunch more. you've started playing with your friends, talking to them, answering back and working stuff out. that's been one of the amazing developments this month, watching you adapt your temperment according to the company you're keeping.

this is the month that sam and i finally got bolder in our managing of your sleeping patterns. i'm not sure if you were just waiting us out or if we just timed it perfectly, but now i get a full uninterrupted sleep until 4:30 am almost every night and sam gets a little extra quality time rocking you in the moonlight.

but we have even more in store for you, crazy monkey. i think i'm okay speaking for your papa when i write that we want to take you everywhere, show you as much as we can, see what you think about it all. because we love you so ridiculously much. back when sam and i first started dating i wrote on a post-it note the word "ridiculous" and left it at my desk, where i would see it every day. because that's how i felt all the time. that this life that was happening was just so damn ridiculous, meaning funny and perfect and deserved and unbelieveable and absoutely joyful. i guess you know what i meant because you and your completely ridiculous self are fitting right in.

thanks for being a part of it all, little man. monkey face. boob kicker. butt biter. smacky the frog. silas lee.

so i guess this is how it's going to be, silas lee. the weather has gone crispy and cool and we're reminded of just where we were at at this time last year.

most of all we couldn't wait to see your face.

sam and i wondered a whole lot what exactly the combination of the two of us would look like. now we have a pretty good idea and for your sake we're quite relieved. you are a joy to stare at all day long. in the beginning, i remember how strange it would feel to look away from you. i would feel the muscles behind my eyes pulse when i finally changed my point of view to something other than you. i would force myself to look away once sam got home from work so that i wouldn't be quite so baby crazy. but now, when we lay you down at night i always wish i had soaked you in a little bit more. exactly what you were like that day, those moments. because when you wake up and your papa brings you into bed in the middle of the night, my first thought always is: "he's so big. so long. so old. so different than the last time i saw him."

this past month, you have become quite the buddy. you and i spend so much time together during the day that it is such a relief to see you develop different ways of playing, interacting, bouncing, squealing and smacking with all your loved ones. watching the expression on your face change to pure joy when you see one of your recognized friends, papa or family - that's awesome. but's it's even more fun for me as your mama when your friends look just as excited to see you.

so many things in the past month, silas lee. two syllable words (puppy, balloon), loads of more signs, true communication and understanding, a hilarious sense of humor and anticipation. reading books with you has finally become an interactive experience when you anticipate what animal, action or picture will be on the next page and you move our hands out of the way so you can turn the page. crazy.

we also lost a dear family friend this month. and with all the tears, long talks, hugs, church service, and a late night at the funeral home, you silas lee, were a champ. interesting that you decided exactly on the day that we found out about her death to start giving out kisses. all the time kisses. you preface the kiss with a matter of fact grunt and two little palms on the side of our faces, then plant one on us, followed by a self satisfied little sigh. classic and totally unique. and your papa and i and your grandma will totally take them, all of those baby kisses.

hello, big kid. thanks for the best year ever.

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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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mr. monkey pants, christmas day had us staring fourteen months of you in the face.

now that you are so completely your own person with strong wants, definite dislikes and a constant need for kisses, it is absolutely fantastic to hang out with you everyday. i found myself pinching myself more often this month than previous months. i cannot believe that it is my job to hang out with you every day. it is the best job i have ever had (and i never thought i would top the french baby boutique in westport) and i love waking up every morning to the knowledge that my day will be full of hanging out with you and if it's a really good day - you and sam.

you have taken me everywhere this month: the zoo, the winter market, the butterfly room, the conservatory, the aquarium, the nature village, mchenry, rolling down snowy hills, the neighbors, to meet santa claus, the laundromat, the bagel place, the botanic gardens. everywhere.

you are unflappable with the changes of location, you fall asleep on the journey and wake up vaguely psyched to be somewhere completely different. you adapt much better to change than i could ever anticipate.

but even with all these amusements at our fingertips, my favorite place to spend time with you is hands down, our home. when we're home you are totally chill. exploring all the nooks of our condo, wedging yourself into the spot between the couch and the bookshelf so you can sit and enjoy a book or a puzzle by yourself.

this month, you've truly developed an ability to entertain yourself, something i don't think i figured out how to do until i moved into my own apartment and started drinking. i listen to you playing, talking yourself through certain activities, making silly noises for your animal figures, zooming your cars around and our favorite: your anticipatory "ah, ah, ah, aaaaah!" exclamation for throwing balls, finger puppets or surprising yourself with the raccoon puppet.

and finally, i can say with confidence that your sleeping patterns have taken a turn for the better. i have begun dreaming regularly and your papa often doesn't bring you into bed until after 4am. this is a huge relief. i miss having you in bed when i fall asleep but i missed not being kicked in the neck while drifting off even more. and i think that you are more down with your crib than in the past, you ask to take naps and if you're deciding to abstain from resting one particular day you'll still play in your crib while i catch some shuteye. but i can't imagine not waking up with you in our bed. waking up slow on a saturday morning, the three of us. it's just so obviously what it's all about.

so thank you, silas lee. thank you for being down with the snow.

thank you for making it so incredibly fun and funny to live moment to moment.

thank you for rubbing your whole chest and belly when you are saying please. thank you for still being able to be completely calmed by the presentation of an apple. thank you for singing along with us in the car when we ask nicely. thank you for turning every object into either a telephone or a microphone.

thank you for being the easiest person in the world to love. it is exactly what i want to do all day.

oh, my sweet baby boy.

fifteen months. twenty two pounds and fifteen ounces. nine and a half teeth.

give you a couple of empty spice jars, a handful of cinnamon sticks, two super balls, a cup full of water, a pile of apple rings, a tissue and a book about an ol' black fly and we swear you could entertain yourself for the entire afternoon.

your main mission while at home this month has been a slight jog from room to room. you'll be happily playing with a bowl of rocks and your bear and turtle figures when all of a sudden you'll drop them and hightail it into the bathroom where you'll spend ten minutes sorting through the things under the sink until you pull out just the travel size bottle of shampoo and the two tampons you were looking for.

you'll do pretty much anything we ask of you: bring us totally randomly requested things from other spots, share your snacks, toast to our good health, sing us songs on cue. it's highly possible that these moments of complete agreeability might be fleeting so your papa and i are taking complete advantage of them - picking out cookbooks for dinner, helping sort through green beans, liberally dousing our meals with spices and stirring the waffle mix until your little arms give out.

but my favorite thing about you from this past month (aside from how you follow me into the bathroom every time, wait and then hand me toilet paper) is how you are discovering the functionality of stuff. even though we may not have a ton of amusements around the house, the things we do have are apparently quite fun.

you play guitar every day with the guitar hero controller and papa's electric. take pretend photos with the holga and real ones with the camera that was gifted to us by your grandparents in lieu of nursery furniture. you stand in front of the stereo pointing, swaying and making the signs for "more" and "music." you often request that i dust off the keyboard under the desk so that you can spend the early evenings composing songs about how much you wish your papa would come home.

you set up the puck, basketball, football, softball and soccer ball before you attempt to shoot them with the hockey stick. but, interestingly enough, you take much more accurate swipes at the beer bottles on the coffee table with no warming up or aiming at all.

and i've noticed you practicing kicking when you think we're not paying attention. and even though we are quite positive that you are absolutely clear on who is mama and who is papa, when we are all three together you consistently refer to us as "maapaa." both of those things ridiculously endearing, my dear. and so many more.

your second chicago winter has not even had a chance to slow you down. your balance is still a bit iffy, so climbing filthy snow drifts and running on salty sidewalks has taken a back seat to exploring all the facets of the indoor city.

everyday your papa and i smack ourselves on the forehead in disbelief. silas lee, you are fantastic. you are a stinker. you are beyond anyone that we could have imagined for our son, a third person in our family. just this morning your papa mentioned to me that your favorite thing to do for the first half hour of the day was climb up on top of the table and then stand there so incredibly pleased with yourself. well, my monkey, we are incredibly pleased with you too. but, please, get off the damn table. thank you.

ah, silas lee. sixteen was the month that you took everything i had previously expected from a raising a baby and totally blew it out of the water.

you are an absolute joy to spend our days with. you took one of our wedding vows and adapted it into a dominating facet of your personality. how ridiculous is that?

and its completely not just us. one of my favorite parts of traveling with you this past month was taking you all over the world to meet people that probably never had a chance to encounter someone like you. and it was if you were so completely psyched to meet all of them too. the screaming teenagers, the trembling boys, the squishy grandmas who tugged your pant legs, the stern soldiers who squatted next to you while you played in the dirt, and the sticky faced toddlers who happily shared their lunches, you were just as intrigued by all of them. so, thank god, that it was the best idea ever to put you on a plane to asia.

thank you for proving us totally wrong when we decided to put no crazy expectations on the trip. everyday was exactly how it should of been. after sixteen months, we should have known that being the three of us for fifteen days uninterrupted would be fantastic.

this month, you really started to dance, you started to speak intelligibly (at least to us), you continued entertaining yourself while walking and looking for sticks to pick up and sidewalk cracks to dig into. and you started to look a hell of a lot more like your papa.

you've got this crazy gait (i think it resembles an overweight drag queen) and when you're walking with purpose you've always got one pointy finger extended as if at the ready to indicate any possible object of interest. when you find something interesting and you know there are people around you really, really want to make sure everyone else has a chance to check it out. at the aquarium, you'll spend half the time with your fingers touching the glass and the rest of your body turned around trying to get the person behind you to look at the crazy specimen.

so, once again, silas lee, it is really just the best thing ever to have you around. i am proud that you are sam's and my contribution to our family lineage. you have to be strong and unique to keep up with my side of the tree and i know you have it in you. all that and damn charming too. that must come from your paternal ancestors.

oh and let's not forget about the five more teeth.

seriously, kid, where do you find all the time to get so much done?

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Silas. Before you were born, I had no idea what kind of father I would be. I had high hopes that I would kick ass, but you never really know. I knew Katie was going to be an amazing mother. She's honest, responsible, organized and super fun. But as for me, it remained to be seen.
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You have been here for seventeen months. You can walk. You can talk. You prefer fish and buses and brooms and balloons. You really like grapes. You're just so much fun. I only get to spend about two hours with you on weekdays, but it's two hours of squealing, running, throwing, roaring, laughing and bubbles.
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I get to put you to bed every night. I get to pick you up in the ridiculous morning and calm you back to sleep. I get to take you to the park, to the diner. I look for you when I walk in the door because I know how happy you're going to be to see me. It makes my head implode.
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I am stunned by your good looks. I am envious of your openness with everyone. It takes you approximately three seconds to get comfortable with new people. It sometimes takes me three months. I love your cleverness, your memory, your fascination with precise tasks. I just really love to hang out with you.
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I think I only get to be a father as you define it, and I totally kick ass. Thanks SIlas Lee, you are excellent. papa
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so to answer that previous question, "could we possibly love you anymore, silas lee?" yes, yes and yes. eighteen months and here we are. i can finally stop referring to your age in months because you are SO OLD that years and year fractions will suffice.

we spent your second official half birthday running around your tumbling class, learning backwards rolls, earning armfuls of inky stamps and practicing your favorite new skill - shouting "ready, set, GOOO!" and then taking off at a hoppy, crooked, usually diagonal run. then we came home went for a sunny walk outside and had falafel and lentil soup with titi lisa. as we were walking back upstairs after kissing titi goodbye and throwing leaves in the breeze, i thought to myself, "this has been a perfect day."

but i have said that to myself or to you for so many consecutive days that i couldn't remember the last time i didn't feel that way. everyday has been exactly how it should have been. every night we all sleep much more soundly.

currently you are all about making decisions: whether or not we should go outside, walk or bicycle ride, which shoes to wear, which shoes your parents should wear, snack or lunch, bottle or cup, which books to read, to catch or to throw, kick or hockey stick the ball across the house, swing or slide, wood chips or rocks, guitar or bass, stir or fling, ninjas or toothpaste in the sink, read magazines or pull toilet paper while sitting on the pot, cubs hat or army hat, sweep or bounce balls.

but there is never a decision to be made when it comes to garbage trucks, music, papa, bubbles, apples, sticks, puddles, kisses, and baths. those are always a priority in your pamphlet and buddha forbid you would ever have to choose one of those above the other.

sam and i are just starting to figure out that that's one of our main duties right now, to make sure you don't ever have to pick a favorite among those things. you are the sweetest person i've ever known. there is no reason in the world that you can't have a stick, a puddle, an apple and your papa all at the same time. you have and you will.

now stuff is really going to get crazy, you're a kid. you sleep at night, you feed yourself your own food, you help set the table, you look for things you've lost track of, you sing outside the neighbor's house until she comes out. you don't need us nearly as desperately as you used to.

but we're staying put. in it for the long haul, the open road, the times that lay ahead. your father and i are constantly working on our relationship - staying aware and keeping each tuned in - because it so isn't about just the two of us anymore. there are three and it is all of us. respectful, dedicated and never refusing a hug that comes at you at full speed.

we love you like nothing we've ever known or felt. silas lee, crazy monkey, poop butt. happy 1.5

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Silas Lee, you make me goofy. And I mean that quite literally. You make me do anything to get you to laugh. Wear your pants on my head? Check. Howl in a grocery store? Check. All that matters is the laugh. But more often than not, you crack me up.
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You take us everywhere. Never content to stay home on a perfectly good weekend day, you take us bowling and to the aquarium, to farmer's markets and the beach, on hikes in the woods in the city, to Cubs games and to garage sales.
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And when we don't go anywhere, home is ridiculous. Inside. Outside. With us. Alone. You find new ways to play with everything and everyone. You're such a good kid. Such a big kid. Seriously, Katie and I just really like you. You're just really fun to be around. You make it easy for us.
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So nineteen months ago you were born. You were so tiny, but always sturdy. I never felt like I could break you. I never felt like you were fragile. It's amazing to see you jump now. To see you climb stairs or run. I love that you have friends. That you know them by name and which general direction they live in. I love that you recognize home. I especially love how you say the word "nose", like it's spelled "nosche." I love that you shout "throw" every time you see the Cubs. And that you somehow got Lisa to play hockey with you. You bring the best out of everybody and the best of my life together.
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So once again, Silas, thanks for making this whole thing fun and interesting and just really great. I don't know who you'll be as you get older, but I'm super excited to find out.
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closer to two than you were to one. twenty months of you silas lee.

that's such a crazy amount of time, twenty. it feels like you have been around forever but when you look at the time all typed out on the computer it seems very puny. but, yet, here you are, so definitely your very own person.

sam and i still don't think that you look very much like either one of us. there were a few moments when you were a baby when you made some very sam expressions. but that lasted for about a week and ever since looking at you has just been looking at you, not looking at everything that came together to make you. but, oh lordy, how you show off you parental lineage in your actions.

this is sam:
.how you are totally up for anything, anytime, whatever. you have never once registered even a smidgen of disappointment in our daily activities, crazy ideas or last minute excursions. you are always psyched to be wherever, hanging out. it is awesome.
.your dancing moves. your papa does not dance often but when he does - it is full out, unique, spirited and ratcheted up by a random flailing limb.
.your singing. you sing all the time, making up a handful of different notes out of the handful of syllables you have deemed worthy of songwriting.

.your unabashed shows of affection.
.your ability to let it slide. sad moments with you are just that. moments, nothing messes up your day.
.your pocket tees.
.your ability to watch baseball for hours on a saturday afternoon, laid out on the couch, belly proud.

this is me:
.your interest in all foods. you'll taste anything once and if you spit it out, we can usually distract you long enough to get it back in your mouth the second time and you'll forget that you ever rejected it.
.your amazement with all things snot.
.the randomness of the things that you deem hilarious.

.you've never met a body of water that was too cold to dip your face into.
.the fact that you put things away and can keep yourself busy for an entire morning moving one thing to another spot and then finding something there that you would like to move to a better spot.

this twentieth month has been all out summer. every day, i am struck ridiculous by the undeniable fact that we are spending another summer together. i am positively giddy. and this summer is so different than last because you walk and you run. all the time. with a bit of encouragement, you'll walk all over the place. we rarely bring the stroller out anymore because it's just easier to pop you onto our shoulders when you need a rest.

it's been about the beach, about camping, about staining your t-shirts with berries. about shushing us so you can hear the birds, saying "wow" so obviously that construction trucks stop to honk and wave, about getting grass in your diaper, "booming" grape tomatoes in your mouth. about smelling like sunscreen and sweat at the end of a long day.

about splashing, about winding up for the pitch. about yelling "ready, ready, go" before you release the ball. about getting out your own breakfast in the morning, about grinding my coffee and making your own smoothies. about saying "both" and "thank yuuu" and "chop" and "helmet" and "beach"

every weeknight, if we can time it right, we sit outside resting on the front stoop waiting for your papa to ride his bicycle home from work. that is the best moment of my day. the anticipation that it will be us three, all together again. knowing that even though we talk about sitting & waiting for papa to come home, it doesn't seem to hit you until you see him from a few paces away and you take off. hollering "papa, home! helmet, yay!"

you are growing into a kid. your very own, individual person. and you are fantastic. your papa and i love you so incredibly much. every night, we marvel at the fact that you are ours and just how psyched we are about that. just so you know, we are super psyched.

silas lee, we started out this month on vacation in new york city and ended it driving in northern california headed to our campsite in the redwood forest. you got it rough, kid.

point reyes, ca

if you weren't such a summer peach to travel with, we would have rethought our crazy big ideas. but so it goes, you are a transportation marvel. you squeal at the mention of buses, fling your arms to the sky when you think you hear an airplane, yell out the word "train" periodically during the day and knock yourself in the head every so often just to check to see if you are prepared and wearing your bike riding helmet.

museum of natural history, nyc

and so we want to take you everywhere. i keep thinking that when you turn two and have to have an airplane ticket is when we'll stay home. but your papa just shakes his head at that possibility.

foxwoods resort, ct

we know that if we can plan a getaway that has rocks and a puddle to throw them in, you'll be quite satisfied. add an apple, some raisins and nuts and maybe a new book and i could almost finish a crossword. imagine that.

foxwoods resort, ct

but the main thing, about this month, is that you are so not a baby anymore. you are huge, so long. you can holler out your requests, instead of just crying. you do this frustrated little stomp when you are not having your immediate desires fulfilled. you can turn on the tears in an instant. but you also find stuff interesting all on your own. we don't have to point out details to you, totally the opposite. you see, hear and sniff things before we do and make us stop and look at all the stuff we would have missed.

museum of natural history, nyc

instead of hustling upstairs when we get home in the afternoons, you always insist on taking a rest on our teeny front stoop. hanging out, greeting passersby, talking about dogs, sticks and flowers.

central park, nyc

it is amazing to watch you take everything in. there's so much to see and do that everyday we come across something you haven't been a part of before. and watching your face, your expressions while you process all the new sensations and information is, without a question, so far my favorite part of being your mama.

millennium park, chgo

golden gate bridge, ca

you can take your shoes off, attempt to change your diaper, build block houses with your papa, polish off an entire smoothie in one sitting, juice carrots, butter your toast, whisk up the eggs, read stacks of books before getting distracted, throw rock after rock before tiring, ready set race your parents down the sidewalk, share your ice cream and give eskimo kisses on request.

foxwoods resort, ct

but the one thing i always want to remember about this month is the first moment of every day: the way you greet your papa in the morning. a simple "hi!" that i can hear from our bedroom. so clean and precise. such happiness balled up in one expression.

point reyes, ca

thanks for always being happy to see us, silas lee. for always being up for whatever adventure we've cooked up next. we could not fathom not having you with us. seeing the water reflected in your eyes, watching your fingers pick out the perfect rock, hearing your sneakers hit the pavement or land on the pine needles after an attempted jump.

us101, ca

pretty soon, we'll let you start weighing in on our daily activity choices. that'll be crazy and quite possibly exhausting. but for now, stick with us. we're trying to do right by you.

riverside park, nyc

we love you, sweet boy. hi.

gill park, chgo

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little boy. not so little any more. the recurring theme. something we hear each other say even more times than you request BJ Thomas's "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head" is that you're so big... how'd you get so big? used to be a sweet boy. you're still sweet, just so big...
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and big is nothing. big can't compare to pure kinetic power. straight up energy made physical. this month you left the ground. 21 months of "jumping" to tip toes and all of a sudden you're flying. put you on a trampoline, mama and papa's bed or an air mattress and you're downright gymnastic. oh right, and the running. when did you figure out running? i actually remember when you figured out fast. fast was a father and two teenage sons jogging through the redwoods. you figured out fast 2,259 miles away from home. you took off running "FAST!" right after them and have barely stopped since.
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and as we get closer to just saying you're two years old and not 22 months, or almost two or 88 weeks, the many faces of Silas Lee have started asserting themselves almost as much as you have. and you're a character, whether it's wishing our guests a fond farewell hours before they are scheduled to leave; or leaning over, lightly touching their arm [after being right next to them for the last half hour] and sweetly saying "hi!"; or crying the light fantastic when one cookie just isn't enough — you are yourself and you are ridiculous and in the end you are really just mama's sweet boy.
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actually, strike that. you are everybody's sweet boy. this past month, you've visited and been visited by more family and friends than most people see in a year. you started it in the Humboldt nation with Anthony, Rie and Momo and finished it in McHenry with just about everybody. In between there were visits from amma, the wilk-ruppert family, and did i mention that you got to see just about every Platz in existence including the Blaises and Tarters [freshly returned from China]. Not to mention tita, titi & emily, georgia, forrest, olivia and their parents, brad and professor dressler.
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and all i can say is thank you. i've been reading a lot of books lately that deal with some serious, negative situations – real bad stuff, and a lot of it involves family. and they all kick in what amma calls that "low grade state of constant terror" that you might not always be happy. that you might not always feel totally loved and appreciated. i know i can't control every situation. and i know that there will be times when you are sad and angry — and that knowledge breaks my heart every time i think about it. but all those feelings pale in comparison to the absolute joy i feel when you run to me. when you hug me and every time you say "papa" it makes it all okay. i know you know i love you. i know you don't doubt it for a second and that keeps me in a high grade state of euphoria. you are my monkey. my stinky pete. my little boy. my baby. i love you Silas Lee.
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there was an evening near the end of my college days when i was sitting in a bar, waiting for a rock show to start, sipping on my amaretto sour. i was at a table full of friends, wanting to say so many things to all of them, tripping over all of our words because there was so much to fit in. the evening was a blur, but i remember the feeling in my stomach: utter contentment. i was happy to see every person that walked by and stopped to share a hug or a kiss. i thought, "this is quite easily the most popular i will ever be and that is totally okay. i'm just going to revel in it."

sitting at the coffee shop last thursday on the twenty three monthaversary of your birth, i had that same tumble in my stomach. this beautiful big kid, that sam and i created from scratch and love, is absolutely delighted to see everyone that crosses his path in the day. and because of you, silas lee, so very many people are having a better day.

you give kelly hugs in appreciation for making your smoothie, laugh with sarah while hauling twigs in your dump truck, wave and yell hello to tiger while he takes another cigarette break, climb up into aymie's lap and help her count out the cash drawer, give kerry a kiss to take home to theo. and all in the first three hours of your day. you are exhausting and you are totally worth it.

this month you have changed every day. your papa notices it, i notice it. you say ten new words a day - string together almost full sentences, makes jumps in logic and memory that make us shake our heads in disbelief.

but when i grab you by the waist and pull you into my lap and bury my face in your neck, i am completely awash in your humanity. you started so much smaller & bobblier and now you are strong & funny. you are a complete person and one day, sooner than i'd like to admit, you'll have more important things to do than leisurely passing the morning splitting a lox bagel with your mama.

so bear with us, stinky, as your papa and i try to keep up. keep up with all the growing, talking, chopping, jumping, bargaining, apple eating, climbing, knocking down, and running. oh my god, the running.

but when we finally "catch up" to you it is the best giggle ever. then it is almost as if thanks to all that running we are on to the next great discovery even sooner. a stick that must be gathered, a rock perfect for throwing, a puddle that needs to be splashed or a maple tree airplane ready for take off.

you have brought out the best in us, silas lee. and if you would have known your papa and me before we met you, you would have deemed that a pretty challenging task. thanks, big kid, for taking us on and letting us revel in it.

silas lee, a whole two stinky years ago you showed up.

twenty four whole entire months of all you, everyday.

and it has been, clearly, the best thing ever. your papa and i had no idea what we were going to get when we threw our winter hats into the child rearing ring, but now we have a little more of a clue. we got you.

this month has been quite the early autumn experience. pumpkins, apples, time with all your friends, grandma and amma. a week in california. meeting two more cousins. museums, aquariums, dinosaurs, construction trucks, diggahs.

and your last airplane (up, up, high!) trip as a lap child. seventeen flights in two years and you only made us really sweat once (that kunming-beijing leg earlier this year). seventeen. but, many people all over this world want to see you & who are we to deny them an absolute joy we get to experience everyday. we know your life is crazy, honestly, if you weren't such a chill and entertaining kid we wouldn't have even considered taking on half the adventures we've had.

almost every weeknight before i collapse into bed, i think tomorrow we will take it easy and not do much. but then the morning comes and you are so excited to be awake. and i am so psyched to have another day with nothing to do but be with you, so we must make the most of it.

we must figure out what colors the leaves have changed to today, what halloween decorations we can discover, what friends we can find strolling around the neighborhood, what museums have free admission, what puddles have formed from overnight rainstorms, what books we can check out of the library that we've never read before, how many vegetables + apples we can maneuver home from the market.

and, now, you're two. and we haven't even come close to exhausting our possibilities.

so far so good. this upcoming monday would have been the day that sam and i planned on me being back on the payroll. we just remembered that the other evening. seriously, how did these first two years happen so fast? so fun? but, we'll figure it out. your papa promised us so. i'm sticking around at home at least a little while longer because this is the best job i've ever shared.

sam and i want to be sure to have the inside track on all the things that you've named during the day, all the horses and ponies you've ridden on, the pizzas you've made, the times you've banged yourself on the head and thought it was amusing. that's good stuff and since we made you, we call first dibs.

but, we are going to start documenting our family in a new spot. more pictures, less typing. this site will now be anchored at good ol' www.ohkatie.com. your monthly posts will be written by hand. plain and simple.

onward and upward.

happy birthday, big kid. your papa + mama love you so very much.
it's ridiculous.