Ah, my baby.
Micah is as sweet as he is stubborn. As sensitive as he is ornery. As cuddly as he is dynamic.
Micah loves all things that GO. He rides, rolls and pushes anything that moves. Even me. Disney Pixar's Cars is his favorite movie and every car trip involves a 'discussion' of the various vehicles we see on the route.
He's a stickler to routine and will very loudly let you knew when you aren't following his.
He's also a hugger. He gives some of the best deep, bone-crushing, heart-melting squeezes around. (Secretly, I love that he still needs rocked to sleep for nap and bed time because I get daily doses of those squeezes.)
But he's also not so much a baby anymore.
Although he hates change and is refusing to give up his crib, I know the time is coming. He goes and climbs and does so many things just like a big kid.
And now that he's talking more, he sounds like a kid too.
Just today I told him "no" and he told me to "be quiet." I think the attitude comes on as the baby fat disappears.
But really. No matter how big he gets, he'll still be my baby. Right? Right?