Ander's Twelfth Month

If I were an educated, classy person, I would try to make some sort of reference to Twelfth Night. Merely for puns sake. But I am neither educated, nor classy, and I literally only thought of it because of the word "Twelfth". Which isn't even clever.
I digress.

Ander is one year old. I have a one year old. Living in my home. That I birthed--one year ago. I feel like the newborn stage just draaaaagged on and on, but once January and the new year hit, all of a sudden it's June, the year is half over, and my kid can climb up on the table and get into the candy bowl and start munching on foil wrapped chocolate mints (which he will, naturally, throw up later on the carpet that I'm vacuuming).

My kid does lots of things. And usually definitely not on command.
He waves hi and bye, and he blows kisses, and he asks for "More Please" in his adorable baby sign language, as well as "All Done" and "Hungry". He likes to bring books over and sit in our laps just to turn the pages. He wants nothing to do with the actual words or stories. He gives excellent high fives and is pretty much doing kisses now, too.
He loves to point at things so Mom or Dad will name them.
It started with a multi-colored polka dot blanket I had laying on his bedroom floor and while we were playing on it he started resting his pointer finger on the dots and I just happened to start naming off the colors. He'd switch to another and I'd name that color. And then he started repeatedly jabbing his finger on the same color, so I'd say the color with increasing intensity until I was shouting it and he'd laugh, and laugh.

He loves to be involved, and I mean directly involved, with whatever anyone is doing. After our thrilling lunch date with Daddy at his work, I took him to get the blood draw our doctor asked for at his 9 month appointment. Oops. That whole ordeal, getting to the lab, is a story in and of itself, perhaps I'll get to it another time.
The nurse gave me some little instructions as to how to hold Ander down for when he got stuck with the needle because surely there would be some comeuppance. Of course he would balk and scream and cry, right?
I cannot stress how unphased Ander was as the nurse stuck the needle into his vein. He watched calmly. He sat completely still, only bending his hand back trying to grab for the tiny tube curving down his arm. Not a single peep. I hadn't expected a full-scale tantrum or anything, for how well he does with vaccinations, but I figured it would hurt a little and he'd whine. I was so grateful for my strong, brave Bubba (and also that much more sure he's a Hulk baby), and the nurse was in absolute awe. "This never happens," he kept saying.

He's wearing shoes now.
Which is such a blessing of good timing since it backed up right to the usual time of year Mark's family plans the yearly Apache Lake trip. Eases this poor momma's heart that I wouldn't be trying to contain a very mobile and stubborn and headstrong (and just plain strong) kiddo that isn't wearing shoes in the harsh desert. Not that he even cares, he goes willy-nilly over rock and dirt and weeds like he's actually a Tank, as I like to call him. But at least with shoes on I'm not thinking about all the stickers and broken glass.

Oh, he's also a fish. Merman. Nbd.
We took him swimming at Grandpa Tom and Mary's and we could not keep him from diving headlong into the water. Grandpa ended up wrapping a floaty noodle around him so he could flail all his limbs as he wanted and feign swimming.
We were at my parents' near the beginning of the month and he kept popping onto his back in his floaty and all of a sudden he started giggling when that happened, so I just stood over him so his face was shaded but I didn't touch him and let him float around happily on his back.
He must think he has gills for how much he wants to constantly keep his mouth under water. Really though I think he's just trying to drink the whole pool.

He loves animals and thinks all of them are his own personal pet. It's the greatest thing in the world but I've seen him wobble up to Mor'du or Odin and he signs "please" before trying to pet them.
Everyone loves meal time because...
a) Ander can't get enough of food and all of it's varieties
b) Ander gets a kick out of feeding the dogs his own food
c) The dogs are thrilled with this new development
In fact, it may even be turning Mor'du's inexplicably cold attitude towards Ander around a little bit.

Sadly, but also pretty much expectedly, I cannot squeeze his 11 and 12 month onesies onto his roly-poly self, so we'll just have to do with these yummy photos of him in the suit-jacket and vest combo that Grandma Miriam brought over. It was worn by Mark and each of his brothers, so I'm pretty thrilled that he fit into it for a photoshoot. We think he looks like a mini-Bilbo cosplay in it and whoops, my heart is exploded. I love my little Hobbit babe.

 

Ander's Favorite Things

aka things he smiles extra wide for and does consistently enough

to make me think he extra likes it

Snuggling into mom's shoulder after sleeping

and singing little made up songs or chittering to himself

The color yellow

Cold green beans straight from the can, gogurt,

mashed potatoes, mac 'n cheese, saltines

Any and all electronic devices

Empty soda cans
(I mean, he'd take full ones too)

His Teddies:
Pooh Bear (Thanks Allie and Izzy!!), the vintage bear that
used to belong to Mark's oldest brother,
his Lamb, and Mr. Monkey