When I came home from work on my break today, Mason wasn't walking. He was running. I went in the bedroom to change and he practically ran down the entire length of the hall towards me. It's still wobbly, hands-in-front-for-balance, zombie-style movement... but it's different now. Before today, he could walk if he wanted to, but he'd much rather crawl. He wasn't crawling today. I wanted to cry. I fall asleep and one night and bam! he's a big kid.
Anyway, we all had tacos for lunch and George decided it'd be a good idea to give Mason a bite of his taco - complete with jalapeno hot sauce. Seconds after taking a bite Mase burst into tears, rubbed his tongue with his hands, and frantically signed "water" and "milk" and I'm sure he would have signed "my mouth's on fire" had he known how. He dropped to the floor, crawled over to where I was sitting on the couch, and curled up into my lap. Instantly, he was my baby again. Just like that.
I guess he doesn't have to be a big kid all the time. Thank god.
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