How old are you Jack? How old are you?
Jack cocks his head to one side looking at me intently. Slowly he holds one finger out to me and a huge grin spreads across his little face.
That’s right!!!! You are ONE! Good Job!
I turn around to get a glass of water, answer the phone or check on dinner and he’s speed crawling out of the kitchen and down the hall.
He turns around halfway down the hall to make sure I’m running after him. He wants me to catch him. I always do.
Toy debris covers the TV room; books and blocks, toy walkers and stuffed animals lay tossed aside as he stands banging on the slider door desperately trying to get the dog’s attention.
Da! Da! (pointing)
Yes Jack, that’s the dog. Can you say dog?
Tupperware containers and lids are strewn across the kitchen and every cupboard door is open. Everywhere I step, I land on a lid or a spoon. It seems like every 5 minutes I’m sternly saying ‘NO!’ as Jack attempts to dig through drawers, the garbage can or cleaning supplies.
He holds out his latest treasure. A baby spoon. In a moment he turns around, and crawls away. I watch him stuff it under the couch. Rem is watching and goes to investigate. They lay there for a moment together, comrades.