And so it begins. Poor little Hudson: just when he thinks I’m his best friend in the world (and of course I am), I have to pull the “mom card.” We’ll be playing and laughing, sharing co-conspiratorial squints and blinks. He’s showing me how he can get onto the chair by himself and I clap. He’s showing me how fast he can run around the kitchen island and I cheer. He’s showing me how he can throw the wooden train car to make a loud bang on the glass and suddenly it’s: “No!”He looks at me with this betrayed confusion: “Wait, I thought we were buddies. I was impressing you. We were having fun.”
I was laughing with Aron about the little face he makes when I pull rank and totally ruin the fun, when it occurred to me that this is the crux we’re going to be facing for years and years… and years.
“Hey, buddy! Tell me about all of your friends.” “Oh, him? Hmmm. I’d rather you didn’t go to his house.” “Hey best friend, you can tell me anything.” “She wants you to do what?!”
How nice that our major struggles are still more on the order of: “Yes, you have to have your diaper changed. Again.” and “Yes, you really do have to hold my hand when you walk your wooden doggy into the street.”
(Hudson turned 15-months-old yesterday. Here are all of the monthly updates from his first 12 months.)
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