Baby Steps

Today, Connor and I went to his 15 month check up. Because he was just at the Dr's office a few weeks ago with some other random virus he was happy as a clam until the nurse walked in. I could see it in his face- suddenly the memories all poured back into his little head and the clinging and howling began. She got out the stethoscope... he screamed like she was burning him, we laid him on the table to be measured... he bucked and squealed to get back into my arms, she walked out of the room, suddenly he only wanted to be down so he could get to the doctors cabinet under the sink to see what treasure awaited him.

Then the Dr. came in. More howling. More squirming. Until she ignored him for a few minutes, I let him down and he wandered around the room a bit more. Then the funnest part of all. I got to hold, while the nurse injected microscopic amounts of deadly diseases into our child. He really loved that part.

While we were there, the Dr. suggested that we go ahead and wean him from the bottle. It all looks good on paper, but it makes me a little bit sad too... 1. How in the hell are we going to get him to sleep at night? 2. Once the bottle is gone, part of our baby is gone.

It all happened so fast, why can't he be a baby for a another few years? Just a couple of little bitty years? Before we know it, he'll be rolling his eyes when we address him in public, slouching and involving us in general teenage angst. Noooooooooooooooooooooo. I like him now. How sweet he is when he's sleepy and how good his head smells when he rests it on my shoulder. How he points at something as says, um? because he wants it, how he charges the kitty yelling, GEE GEE! At the top of his lungs. Once it's gone, it's gone. I know I don't have to let go completely, after all I still have plenty of diapers to change, plenty of scraped knees to kiss and shoes to tie, but it's still hard letting go... even if we do it in baby steps.