If only he could remain so agreeable

My son has begun to make that transition from baby to little boy. He can speak a few words now, and he’s crawling upright on all fours rather than slithering around the house like a snake.

He’s even stopped putting everything in his mouth for the most part.

Most recently, he’s begun to pull himself upright, sometimes with the help of a piece of furniture and sometimes with the help of his Mommy.

  

I want to tell him that he can stop growing up now. Other than the diapers and the middle-of-the-night wakeup calls, he has reached that perfect age wherein he is mobile and reactive enough to play with for hours, but he’s not yet capable of rejecting any of my ideas or telling me I’m not entertaining enough.

Unfortunately, this moment will last about nine seconds. Before I know it, he will be telling me that my version of hide-and-seek (the real version) is boring and will be adding bizarre rules to the game that I will never quite understand.

I’ll still play, but I will do so in a fog of confusion and misunderstanding. 

Don’t get me wrong:

The next age will be perfect, too, but it’s just nice to have someone so agreeable around the house for a while.