Unprepared for walking, unprepared for talking, unprepared for life as a one year old. That's us, not him. Riding the razor's edge between gratitude and morbidity, cringing at taking this life forgranted, I never got around to buying anything for a child over the age of one.
Thankfully, we received a kickin' Britax to replace the infant car seat, when Bo ever gets over 22lbs (in another 2 months? he only weighed in at 19.66lbs Monday). And now that he has the world's most extensive baby board book library (thank you, aunties and uncles!), I don't have to fall asleep chanting, "left foot, left foot, right foot, right."
But I think I have to buy him clothes that fit. T-shirts, shorts and bigger pageboy hats. Shoes? Baby gates for the stairs? All that work to get him to one, and now I'm sort of at a loss. Do we live happily ever after, or continue to live in the shadow of fear? Cautiously joyful and sparingly foolhardy, we awaken to a new day with our new best friend, cooing and laughing, grabbing his chubby toes.
