Bram, at 17 months, after seeing the first snowfall of the year.
It snowed last night.
I think this is the first time he’s realized that everything can change around him: he ran from window to window this morning exclaiming and pointing out the window at the snow-covered yard and trees. The house was cool, and he protested when we changed him into warmer clothes. Megan and I hauled out his yellow, heavier jacket, and warm fleece pants, tied up his shoes and brought him outside to play in the yard while I let the dog out.
Bram continually astounds me with every single day. I’ve described to friends and family how his mind seems to be unpacking and growing since birth, and it’s continued at a pace that astonishes me. He picks up on instructions, words, moods, quickly, imitating things that I do or say. His vocabulary grows every day, and he’s starting to have opinions on how he goes about doing things: he can be stubborn and temperamental. Most of all, he’s funny. He’s a genuinely cheerful and happy child – he laughs readily when he finds something funny – antlers placed on the dog’s head, or a funny hat, and does things that he knows are funny to him, and us.
Sometimes, that funny thing is born out of a sheer fascination and curiosity with his surroundings: taking in the sheer joy of something utterly new and wonderful. Watching that uninhibited joy in every day moments is something wonderful in a time of every day routine.
To a 17 months old, a first snowfall is magical.