Legs eleven.

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Dear Archer,

ELEVEN MONTHS. How did we get here?

You have assembled quite the bag of tricks now. Waving (usually after the person has left, but hey, you’ll get there), blowing on hot food, standing wobble-legged on your own, doling out sloppy kisses and feeding yourself. You love to clamber up for cuddles and drag over toys or rocks or food to show me, offering them up with sticky hands, a gummy grin and stream of drool.

You are a champion sleeper, my boy. Hopefully that sees you through to adulthood and you don’t jolt awake at the tiniest sound or lay wide-eyed in the wee hours next to your wife or husband and yearn for sleep. You go to bed at 7pm on the dot, and we don’t usually hear from you until about 5.30am when you dad’s alarm wakes up the whole house.

And nice work on the naps too, little man. Your morning sleep is a rock-solid hour and a half or sometimes two hours, and I am an efficiency machine during that time – writing, studying, cleaning, showering, eating, cooking and peeing on my own for the last time until your dad comes home. You usually have another hour or so in the afternoon to get you through the dinner/bath/books/boob/bed routine, then pass out in your cot, sleepy-eyed and floppy.

The epic bread-bun arms are still there, but you have lost the chunky baby fat and are becoming a little boy. Your hair is getting so long that it tickles your ears and you swat madly at it with flailing arms, before sticking a finger in your ear like a crazes archaeologist  And still just three teeth, but those three teeth are big and white and can do damage. You have the appetite of a burly 17-year-old teenager, and love eating sultanas, porridge, Cruskits, broccoli, chicken pieces, apples, yoghurt and blueberries. Yesterday I was feeling virtuous and made a dozen veggie rissoles that I thought would be your lunch for the next week- until you ate six of them in one sitting.

All the food is fuelling your mad race-crawling adventures around the house, thud-clunking with a toy in one hand, pulling yourself up on the couch and snuffling into the cushions in a frenzy of adrenaline. Any time you see something soft on the floor – a pillow, my handbag, a teddy, the cat – you dramatically put your head down to go nigh-nigh, and then crack up laughing. You still get a bit shy around new people, and prefer to stay close to me, but once you warm up will climb up on anyone’s lap for a cuddle.

The next update will be your one year. I can’t quite believe we survived this long, you and me. But what an adventure it has been.

I love you, little man.

Love,

Mum

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