The Grand Show Has Begun

If we were to survey moms with babies across the nation on the top five most common comments received from strangers in the grocery store, I would bet,"Ahh, enjoy it. It goes by so fast" would be among them, somewhere beside, "He's so cute" and "Does somebody need a nap?"

I always smile politely and agree when I hear this comment, but frequently I've thought to myself, "When? When does it start going by fast?" The first three months when I was just a human breast seemed to last forever. The sleeplessness coupled with the back pain made me start crossing off the days in the calendar until Finny would be five. But, suddenly, Finny is in fast forward and indeed things seem to be going by so fast. It's almost as if Finny has been storing up tricks for the winter over these past twelve months and now the grand show has begun.

Just a few weeks ago I was so amazed that he could point. Now, all at once, he is standing on his own, playing "sooo big," blowing kisses, and clapping and it all seemed to happen in a weekend. It's official: Finny is a ham.

It was not so long ago that I remember thinking--gasp!--that Finny was, well, a little boring. I was lamenting over the fact that I was not productive and couldn't do my own thing. When he was awake, but couldn't move a whole lot, say a whole lot, or do a whole lot, I would sometimes count down the minutes until nap time. Now that Finny is one, something in me has changed as well. I don't want to be productive--I want to play!

I find myself thinking, "Do I really have to do these dishes now? I'd much rather dump all the blocks on the floor." I often feel like Finny is thinking the same thing. I mean let's be honest, how exciting can measuring cups really be? I know he just pretends to like the tupperware cabinet just so he can be close to me when I'm at the kitchen sink.

After years and years of experience, adults tend to get grouchy and serious, but not Finny. Ordinary things like socks, remote controls, and cell phones are truly hilarious to him. If I hide behind the ottoman and pop out at him, he nearly explodes with excitement. If I stack the blocks, he rocks back and forth sucking on his fingers and giggling, anxiously anticipating the moment when he can knock them down. If I turn on the Oldies music station on cable, he immediately bounds toward the TV, pulls himself up and starts shaking his butt.

This guy is a party animal. I'm pretty sure if he ever joins a fraternity (which I will do everything in my power to prevent from happening) he will have a nickname like Hambone and be put in charge of getting the party started. (The way things are going though, they may not want to put him in charge of music as he is being exposed to a lot of Broadway and Doo-wop, not to mention the Michael Feinstein he is exposed to when Grandma Finnessy has him.)

Don't get me wrong, I had many sweet and precious moments with Finny when he was a little baby and there is something so pure and lovely about a soft, wrinkly newborn. But the giggling. The constant giggling with those six big teeth popping out of his little duck mouth. My cup runneth over.