My baby t'ain't a baby no more

As of the 21st of this month, Will is 17 months old. Still a baby by most standards, right?

Wrong-o.

I looked at his sweet little chubby cheeks several times last week and proclaimed to the Hubster, "He's not a baby anymore!"

Evidence #1: from leg #3 of the Great Fantastic Summer Vacation of Aught-eight:

Must. Do.Everything.Older. Brother.Does!

Evidence #2: He's TOTALLY fearless in the water. We made him wear a life preserver at the water park to keep our hearts beating.

Life jacket or no, he would walk into the water, sometimes as deep as his chest, waving off the hands that were trying to keep him from falling and slipping under the surface of the water.

What? Was that a face-dive into the water? No matter, I'll just stand up, choke a bit and keep on trucking. You are SO not going to keep me from going where I want to go. By. Myself.

Evidence #3: While in the car on the way home from the Dells, Nick hit a stretch where he had to ask me (not Daddy) 538 questions. I began to ignore him.

"Mom? Mom! MOM!"

I whirled around in my seat. "WHAT?!?"

Will goes, "Mom. MOM!" then grins like the Cheshire cat. No more "Mama" for this kid!

Evidence #4: Our family reunion was last Saturday at a park with a kiddie playground very nearby. I was comfortable letting Nick run around as he pleased (it was a relatively small park and the only people in it were family members) but Will thought he should follow his brother.

I followed him a few times to see what he would do, and he proceeded to climb - by himself - to the top of the biggest slide.

WHEEEE!

Evidence #5: He's learned to ham it up for the camera. I bring that puppy out, and, well...

Cheese, anyone?

Evidence #6: He no longer thinks he needs to nap.

Shh.....

Evidence #7: He will NOT sit in a high chair anymore.

Evidence #8: He is in love with helping Daddy with his tools.

Evidence #9: Sippy cups are for sissies.

Evidence #10: He is no longer happy being the pawn in his brother's games.

I am not your cargo!

Evidence #11: Must. Climb. Everything. The crib is next.

Evidence #12: He's cutting his upper eye teeth.

Evidence #13: He's started to give kisses with his mouth closed. Why is that the saddest thing?

Its nice to not have to pack a big diaper bag everytime we leave the house (a single diaper and a little thingie of wipes is all we require these days), and we've really been playing and having a good time this summer. (As compared with last summer when he was a teenie and still ate every freakin' four hours and I couldn't participate in anything because, well, he was teenie.)

With both my boys, I've loved each stage as they've grown, but a part of me is still sad when they leave the last one behind. Aaaah...motherhood...