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Who needs a reason?
I don’t have a reason today to share these pictures. It’s just that . . . I was looking at the photos and this kid is so cute. And I just didn’t see the point in keeping this kind of adorable to myself. Why should I, really? This boy, this oTTo Fox Wilder McDonald, is My Favorite One Year Old Boy. And because he is number six some things are a little different for him than perhaps they might have been for children 1 through 5. He has discovered (and been allowed to hold) markers at a significantly earlier age. Which would, of course, account for the orange marker on…
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candy. corn. candy corn.
Fox’s life is at that age. You know the age. The age of firsts. Firsts that just pile up and up. First Christmas. All Disney-ed out and Mickey Moused. First sand eating experience. All gritty and crunchy. First birthday. All chocolate and cake-y. First self-discovery. All hilarious and revealing. And now he has a new first, thanks to Oma. First time eating candy corn. He waltzed around the house, holding his very own tiny bag. Tossing back those orange and yellow white-tipped wonders like they were candy. Which they were. He was so cute – consuming copious amounts of dyed sugar. It wasn’t until later that I discovered the equally…
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Well Lookee Here . . .
I know I cannot share these types of stories forever. And I won’t. I promise. (Really, sons. I promise. I do.) (It isn’t about poop. But it is about body parts.) Wee little man body parts. Today was a big day for our little Otto Fox Wilder. Indeed it was. A day which surely occurs in the life of every young boy, although perhaps is seldom noticed. Kevin lifted Fox up for a hug and a quick ceiling touch. (Otto and Kev play this game. Otto reaches for the sky, points to the ceiling and makes a few grunting noises. Kevin interprets this as his son’s desire to touch the…
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tiny royalty
Otto Fox Wilder McDonald. It’s kind of a royal name – right? I mean, royal in the sense that lots of kings and queens and dukes and duchesses and such have a long series of names – right? Right? Well, this week our family decided that its youngest member needed to be crowned king in a few areas. Like . . . King of Throwing Objects Into the Toilet Objects such as a letter magnet. A wooden block. A stuffed animal. Pretty much, if Fox sensed that a toilet lid was left open anywhere in his vicinity he would rush headlong toward that open hole and try to toss in…
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first.
First time in a sandbox. First time eating sand. First time taking a series of photographs exclusively using the manual settings on my camera. (And you are seeing these sans editing.)
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we let him eat cake.
Otto had a pretty low key first birthday party, as far as those events tend to go. And I am okay with that. Besides, he has enough siblings to constitute a party wherever he goes, so it all works out. A few good friends joined us to do what you do on a baby’s first birthday. Watch them eat cake. Our kids have all handled the first birthday a little differently. We didn’t get the privilege of seeing Riley cram cake into her little kid face since we met her a few years after that event. (I could just make something up here but I guess that’s a bad idea…
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One
Just one year ago you looked this. Brand new. Hours into our life. Peaceful. Still. Beautiful. And now one year later you look like this. Seldom still. Walking. Eating. Laughing. Still beautiful. Happy Birthday One.
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The View From Here
Most days, this is what it looks like when I look down.
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Letter Number Four (4)
Dear Otto’s Nursery Worker, I don’t know why I do not know your name. I am sorry for that. But I do know something about you. You make me happy. Every. Single. Tuesday. You are a blessing – and here’s what funny. You are a stranger to me. To my ten-month-old son. But every week when you see me enter that nursery room with a grinning baby in my arms, you get excited. Genuinely excited. As if you love my baby too. As if taking care of my son is actually a gift to you. Which made me think. Maybe it is. Sort of. See, I know there will be…
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Just a Reminder
Wilder went for his first ride recently in the front of the grocery cart. With a steering wheel even. And it just served to remind me that my Little Wilde Fox will not always be Little.
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O Boy!
And he’s up . . . belly off the ground legs pumping into a genuine crawl. Plus . . . Wilder has discovered how to stand up in his crib but he doesn’t know how to get back down. O boy!
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Is He?
He is. In case you were wondering. His shirt even declares it. Genuine baby. The real deal.
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My Boy!
Guess who finally discovered his own thumb? I guess he is a Keigley after all.
