Hanker Tanker,

Well, little mister, you are officially ten months old. Ten months and ten days actually, but things were a little offbeat last week when you turned double digits. Will you forgive your well-intentioned mama? As the calendar rolled over to your ten month mark, you were busy spending precious time with family and  loving your mommy well when the days were hard. You never cease to amaze me, mini-gentleman of mine. With less than a year under your belt, you teach me plenty about grace most days–always serving as a reminder for me to be my best self, always cuddling or smiling or needing me in a way that says, “I forgive you,” when I don’t quite get it right.

At ten months old, HD, you have proven yourself a most patient and accommodating child on more occasions than we could expect. You have your moments of course (when the days get long and you’ve been away from your own bed too many nights in a row), but in all fairness, I do the same and I’m almost 29 years your senior. I’m not sure that changes much with age, darlin’, and I’m thankful that you’re at least honest with us about your needs. Truly, there are times when I wonder whether I could inherit a smattering of your miniature wisdom; you seem to have a keen sense of what everyone else around you is feeling, and you act accordingly. I don’t know how it’s possible for someone your age to have such sensitivity or awareness, but remarkably, you do. You continue to be a most incredible and undeserved gift to us.

I have never been more grateful for–nor more proud of you, than I have been these past few weeks. I keep thinking that my love for you couldn’t possibly grow any more, and just when I’m convinced of it, my heart stretches even a bit further. You are a light to the people around you–just ask anyone who spent time with us in Gramma’s hospital room. God shines through you into our lives in a tangible and holy way, and as your mama, I’m just humbled over and over to have the privilege of caring for you in this season of your life. I hope I can somehow do you justice.

In as many ways as you bless us, Henry David, you keep us on our toes just as much:) You are crawling, cruising, scaling, standing, reaching, tip-top-toeing your way to everything you can get your hands on. We agreed just tonight, in fact, that caring for you throughout the day has grown exponentially more challenging in the past week and a half. You’re doing absolutely nothing wrong, mind you. You’re doing everything exactly as you should be. It’s every corner, edge, stair, wall, object, and turn that are the problem, really. Effectively, we could blame the house–or perhaps it’s lack of true baby-proofness (That is not a word, by the way, but I’m your mother, so I’m using it. In time, you’ll learn all about my penchant for making up words;). Needless to say, we are doing our best to save you from the major falls and scrapes and bruises that would cause unnecessary pain and/or tears on our watch. And we’re making note of every angle requiring immediate or near-immediate attention, planning a thorough and vigilant elimination of said culprits in the days to come. You did try to scale your dresser yesterday, Oh Adventurous One, and while it’s tempting to remove all furniture from your sphere of influence until you truly get your sea legs, we will not be stacking soft piles of clothing on the floor in its stead. The thing is heavy and not going anywhere–it’s you I’m worried about. What do you say we don’t fall off the front of the dresser anytime soon?

On a last, but certainly no less significant note, you are pronouncing WORDS, my dear. Real, certifiable, recognizable words. When did you learn to say things like, “Clock!” ??? Clock. Really. Of all things. I’m not knocking the probability of your being our punctual child, I’m just saying. Duck and dog and car and dada and mama were all so much more predictable when they happened. You’re still missing a few K’s and R’s here and there, but I truly appreciate the way you say “Kruger” in your own, special vernacular. It is certainly helpful to know what you want, who you’re looking for, and what’s on your mind. Someday we’ll have entire conversations, and I look forward to those. Still, I’ll take all of the “clocks” and “Krugers” and “cars” I can get while they’re blooming. (I’ve learned so much more about human development raising you thus far than I ever did in biology, psychology and all of the other classrooms combined.)

Thank you for being a bright spot even on the dimmest days, precious bug. Ten months and ten days with you, and we’ve needed sunglasses on every one of them! Don’t let anyone ever tell you differently, sweet boy. YOU are a marvelous creation!

all the love in the world,

your mama