House on lockdown

My baby is mobile, or as mobile as you can get with scooting. It’s not an army crawl but it’s very close. Whatever it is, the task of baby proofing the house is near. We still have some of the stuff still in place from when Bailey was little. What fun it’s going to be getting Bailey used to the gates.

She’s serious about getting things. It’s not ooh wonder what this is. It’s gotta have it. Gotta touch it. Gotta eat it. IT’S MINE. Bailey was so not like this. He was curious about things but he wouldn’t attack them once you pulled him away. She goes right back to whatever it is and attacks it, like she thinks if she gets a good hold on it we’ll give in and let her have it. She’s determined that daughter of mine.

Everyone has been amazed at how well Bailey has adjusted to having Jocelyn around. He plays with her, cuddles with her; he down right loves his little sister. We all thought once she’s mobile he’d change. Well so far he hasn’t. He shares his toys with her. He asks her to play ‘Rock Band’ on his Lego’s with him. He lets her take his Lego stacks apart, something that if anyone else dared to do it invoked a total breakdown. He seems impressed she can do it and a little proud. He plays with her now more than he did when she was isolated in her bouncy. I’m crossing everything in hopes that this continues as long as humanly possible.

My baby is not a baby any more. A part of me is happy to move on to the next stage because with each stage she becomes more and more of a person, plus more fun. But there’s a part of me that is utterly devastated. Because unless things change, she’s my last baby.