18 Months

When Noble turned one, sitting down to write turned into a war of attrition. Commandeering a laptop is the least aggressive tactic in her arsenal of course, her needs are met simply by squalling for them in a tone I can't seem to resist, escape or ignore. For all the plans I made to teach her patience via delayed gratification, I continue to choose the convenience of giving in to her whining. Rigorous conditioning, strictly executed.

Noble's technology has been advancing swiftly - when's she's not scooping and spearing with cracking dexterity at mealtime she's climbing disturbing heights and pointing to eyes, ears, and noses whenever prompted. Exclaiming things "too hot" and "ball," finger painting, scribbling with and occasionally resisting chewing crayons are only recent developments, her gait has been gaining grace and agility since her birthday, and so has her sense of direction. Notable charms include the intimacy she shares with her toys, the way she naps against her dad's chest, the miraculous transition she's made to sleeping in her queen sized bed and the delight at her forward-facing passenger experience. She's 28 lbs. of arm-numbing need, with little patience and an enduring self-assured right to breastmilk.

At 17 months we decided it was time for Noble's parents to do a little less parenting, and wrote a check in exchange for scheduled naps, crafts, socializing and two snacks a day, five days a week from 8 to 3:30. Now, we go to the gym every day, take in a matinee when the mood strikes and take outrageous naps when time permits. I've cleaned bathrooms, done mounds of laundry, prepped for meals, meditated,  r e a d     a     b o o k and spent whole hours trying on clothes. I've turned off the engine only to exit the car seconds later hands free, and have no idea where my diaper clutch is. Clearing the clutter of the last year has renewed my sense of identity and revitalized my role as a parent. The week before she started day care she picked up a mean case of Hand Foot and Mouth, which checked my decision to surrender her to all those runny noses without any more prophylactic than her morning vitamin. Fevers and quarantines were managed, and when the blisters began to clear and her glow returned, we were reminded why we'd paid the enrollment fees; Noble belongs with her people.

Met with her infectious smile, her tiny, lovable comrades gather around to welcome her every morning, but a life among her peers has left its mark. In two weeks, she's been bitten four times, but we're confident she's working on diffusing tensions over Lego disputes without violence.

It's been six months, here's what you missed:

 

It's pigtail country around here now, and the terrain is adorable.