I was checking me email this morning when I heard a bit of a clamor from over at the toddler table. I glanced up and saw Miles, standing beside the table, jubilant, clutching and frantically waving a piece of toast in each hand.
A piece of toast IN EACH HAND.
That is, he wasn't using anything to support himself. Just waving those Cinnamon toast triangles like tiny flags of victory.
My breath caught as I waited for him to fall. He didn't. He just looked at me and smiled and laughed.
Jesus, I love this kid.
"My toast! Miles has MY toast!"
Hearing Oscar snapped me out of my daze and I rushed in between my two boys to stop the imminent Battle of Cinnamon Toast before it began.
I picked up Miles, took away the toast.
"Were you standing, Miles William? Are you my little stander?"
He is so proud. I am so proud.
"Ahhhhh! Ggggggooooo! Hee hee hee!"
He has taken steps, one or two, at least three times in the last week.
He'll be one seven weeks.
One whole year old.