nineteen to the dozen

For the first time in nineteen months I truly and totally forgot that Jake's birthmonthday thing passed. I didn't think about it coming up, and I didn't even realize that it happened until I got the obligatory Your 19 Month Old:Week One email from BabyCenter. I'm really slipping.

Nineteen months brings Jake to a real live walking, talking, singing, dancing boy. It's weird to have something like that running around your house. He gets better and better with the talking every day, and he says things that take me by surprise all the time.

He loves to ask questions- where are you? where's bear? where's Jacob? what's that smell? what's that sound? what's this? what's that? where did it go?

And he'll tell you all about everything he owns and everything he does- bear's nice. kitty soft. my blanket. cold milk. hot coffee. my penis. hi penis! bye penis! penis for pee. don't touch eyes. here's my ear. comb my hair. let's brush my teeth. put on my socks. put on my pants. i poop. i no poop! let's sing. i wanna dance. eat peaches? no! banana? no! apple? no! cheese!! cheese!! cheese? Jacob cheese? Jacob cheese please? thank you? come on, mom. cheese? please? and watch 'toons?

Every morning Jake wakes up and calls out, "Jacob! Where's Jacob? Mommy? Where's Jacob? I'm hungry. Milkshake? Mommy? Where's Jacob? Daddy, where's Mommy? Kitty? Peek-a-boo!" It's hilarious, but it is earlier and earlier every day. 5.17 am today. I ignored the hilarity and Jake cried. Then Jake slept and I slept and we all got up at 6.35. Much better. And I know where Jacob is. He is in his cage/crib. Safe and sound and if he cries he will just cry himself back to sleep and I can get some more sleep and we will all be better off for it.

I could go on and on. Just like he does. The kid never shuts up and it amazes me what goes on in his little brain. I never knew 19 month old kids were so capable of saying so much. He is so soft spoken and quiet that you really have to pay attention to catch everything. He gets that from his dad. I'm pretty loud. I want you to hear what I'm saying, just in case something important and revolutionary slips out of my mouth between all the crap I spew on a regular basis.

Jake runs. Jake runs fast. Go, Jake, go!
Jake whines. Jake whines frequently. Stop, Jake, stop!

Jake is getting cuddly again which I like, but he's also a bit clingy at times, which I don't like. There is nothing better than curling up on the couch with him and watching him lose his schniz over Wheel of Fortune because it is totally on his level. Screaming out letters at the tops of your lungs is awesome. Clapping and cheering and spinning things rank pretty high as well.

Speaking of nineteen, Jake loves the word "nineteen" and thinks it means "Charge!" If you hear a little voice yell "nineteen!" brace yourself. You are about to be pounced on or have a ball hurled directly at your head. I blame myself, because every time we count together I swoop in at 19 and tickle him on the 20.

I've put in a lot of time with other toddlers this month. At work, on weekends, after work on weekdays. Throw a dart at my planner and chances are that you would hit a day that I had to spend some QT with the sub-three set. Normally I shun small people and run away if I see one coming, but I got the chance to stand back and watch and see how different they all are. As adults we are all kind of a little bit different, but not really because we are polite and we adhere to social mores and we mind our manners and our tongues and we are generally careful to point our gasses and our sneezes away from one another. Kids are kind of gross and rude and farty and snotty and weird, and they are all kind of gross and rude and farty and snotty and weird in their own ways. After weeks of observation and deliberation and deducing and inducing and pondering, I've come to the conclusion that:

1. My kid is the best.
2. Your kid is almost the best and I love it because I love you and it is just like a little you and I love that about this whole spawning thing.
2a. Except your kid. Your kid creeps me the eff out. It creeps us all the eff out but we don't say anything because we don't know how to break it to you and you seem to love the little wackjob.
2b. No, not you. Your kid is fine. I love your kid. We all love your kid.
3. Those people over there's kid is obnoxious. In fact, those people over there are obnoxious. We will talk about it after they leave.
4. That kid in the corner trying to put a stick up that dog's rearend should just be shot now to save taxpayers the hassle of dealing with it in twenty years.
5. That kid on the swings is so ugly that its mother won't even kiss it directly on the face.
6. That mother on the bench is so ugly that I don't understand how she got to be a mother in the first place. Wait, never mind. I just figured it out when I looked back at that poor dog...
7. Yeah, um, so this is clearly pretty much where the science part of it all ends, I could continue the list, but I won't.