Dear Riley

Today you are 4 days shy of 15 months old. I am no longer doing the monthly letters to you, but I wanted to write a bit to tell you what kind of kid you are, in case I need a reminder when you’re a teenager and just banged up my car.

You are hilarious. You know when you’re doing something wrong, mostly only because I say, “Riley, no no.” Your answer to me is an infectious giggle, and then you run in the opposite direction. Holding a glass, the remote, Lola’s bone, a dirty diaper, or whatever else you’re not supposed to be holding. I chase you, which of course, only leads you to really thinking it’s a game.

Last night I said to your dad, “How am I ever going to discipline him? He’s so cute.”  Somehow I think I’ll manage.

You’re sweet. You always notice when I have my toenails painted. You appreciate it and poke at them, gleefully. You’ve got your second-ever cold right now (and I’ve got it too, of course. So does Daddy), and you’ve regressed a bit into a cuddly mama’s boy, which I love more than life itself. I just want to make you feel better, and you just want to be held. It works perfectly for both of us. There is nothing more painful than seeing you suffer, though. I know I will never, ever get used to it.

You live in the present and you love life. You’re thrilled to go for our nightly walks with Lola, even letting out excited baby babbles while we stroll around the neighborhood. You took your first dip in your baby pool this weekend and it was a happy day for you, that’s for sure.

You’re smart. Just about two weeks ago you were babbling nonsense, and now we tell you to say something and you repeat it! Mama, car, cow, bye bye, Dada, and your absolute favorite, Uh oh. I can’t believe how quickly you’ve turned into a little boy, a toddler. No longer a dependent infant. 

It’s amazing.




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