This fall, we've moved from having a baby to having a toddler.
I think it started at the beginning of the school year, when I decided it was time to take him to Toddler Storytime at the library instead of Baby Storytime. It just seemed like he was the biggest kid in the class, and it was time. And he loved it. He loved the energy of all the toddlers running around and making lots of noise.
Then there's been the trouble with his appetite. Our little baby Max once gobbled up every spoonful that came his way. Many days we were certain he was eating more than Toby. And then it stopped. Along with his pincer grasp came the ability to carefully pick up food from his tray and drop it onto the ground. Not surprisingly, this change was accompanied by a drop in weight, so now we are reduced to begging him to eat. I might have spent tonight's dinner singing, because the only time he would open his mouth was on the "wash" part of "wash the spider down."
And in the last few weeks, we've seen the attitude. Screeching when he's bored. Yanking toys away from other toddlers. Refusing to give away contraband cords, legos and lint without a fight. Bursting into tears when he hears the word "no." Pivoting around so that his back is facing his therapists when he's done playing their games, and doing so with a big grin on his face. He is still a remarkably easygoing little boy -- but he's getting opinions.
So I've been calling him a toddler lately, mostly without apology. Actual toddling will come when it will, we have a toddler in the house.