Towards Toddling

My baby is disappearing before my eyes. He is ten months now, my little Eli. Just recently he's had a growth spurt. He is a tall little boy now. But growing only in height makes him seem skinnier and skinnier. We are inching him towards his first birthday and the introduction of cow's milk in hopes that will fill him out a little better. But for the time being he is the itty bitty svelte little beanpole. So much so that boy #3, who had been watching A Bug's Life, was watching him toddle around holding his father's fingertips and remarked "Eli is a Walking Stick". In reference to the bug character of the same name.

Indeed he is getting closer and closer to that walking point. He furniture surfs around the room. Even gestures around the room with only the fingertips of one hand holding on to the edge of a chair or wall. For brief seconds he lets go, balances for a short breathe in and out, and in slow motion crumples to the floor. But in a heartbeat is off and crawling at break neck speed to his next destination. It is only a matter of a short period of time before he turns those hesitated moments of suspended animation into a tentative step, and undoubtedly a fall, forward. My baby will not be a baby much longer. Soon he shall toddle.

I find that his little legs are starting to extend to the end of the infant car seat. I notice he is losing interest in the baby foods we feed him and wants to experiment more and more with the table foods. I hear him starting to babble in earnest in an attempt to communicate with his older brothers, instead of just filling the emptiness around him with random uttering of sound. My little guy is starting to leave infancy behind.

As with all Eli milestones, it is bittersweet and savored all the same. I am starting to plan the last of the first birthday parties. I no longer pack away the clothes into my pre-labeled Rubbermaid blue 10 Gallon Totes. I look at empty buckets with 6 to 9 months scrawled in black permanent marker across the side. But that stage is apparently not so permanent. What to do with the empty plastic receptacles? It has been an adjustment. For almost ten years now I have carefully laundered, folded and packed away what has been outgrown. Readying it to be worn by the next in line.

But Eli is my caboose. The end of the long line of Desrochers Brothers. In his rightful place as youngest son, he will undoubtedly have to endure a very teary, weepy, overly emotional Momma D at any and all occasions. For as I celebrate and cheer on his every achievement I look behind him and realize he is it, he is the last. The meltdown of Mommy moments will be endured by all, and in the end it is the payback of sorts of being the final son to parents who will be well weathered and worn by older siblings. Parents who will be a little more lax and laid back because they have realized through the experiences of the brothers who have come before that every now and then a late night for a family movie will not cause the world to stop even if there is school the next day. So hand Momma D a tissue, or a couple packs for that matter. Eli is moving forward, as it should be.