I got over it fast, though. I got to play with D.J. (He wanted to play Incredibles, but we ended up playing rattlesnakes instead, and donít even bother to figure out how to play rattlesnakes; I was just there to be the victim.) I helped Dakota rifle through a pile of books to find the ones he wanted. (Dinosaurs, duh, although all creatures are fascinating to him.)
And then thereís Aiden. How can you not be in a good mood when Aiden is clowning around. He walks across the room, pushing his baby walker and bobbing his head up and down. He would probably be walking on his own by now, but he can crawl so much faster (and youíd better keep your eye cast in his direction). I think he can walk, but he just doesnít know it yet.
Heís everywhere, and heís into everything, and heís always smiling. (Well, thatís not quite true. He has his moments, but theyíre few and far between. Mostly, when heís not smiling heís laughing.) He even started a chasing game with me. I was down on the floor, at his level, and heíd pretend to sneak up on me. Then I would jerk around and face him and heíd do a double take, eyes wide, and scramble off the other way, laughing at his own joke.
Youíd think a ten-month-old would wear down after such an active day. At eight oíclock (a reasonable hour, I believe), I sat off out of his eye line while David gave him a bottle. All was dark and quiet. I even thought he was asleep, and I kept still so I wouldnít wake him.
Then he finished the bottle, climbed down off his fatherís lap and started playing all over again. When I left at nine, he was still singing and dancing and telling jokes. Everyone else in the house was pooped, but not our Aiden. He might still be going, for all I know.