Jack: 18 Months - The Most Beautiful Boy in the World

His hair is soft honey.  It smells sweetly of coconut and fresh towels dried with Bounce.  His golden curls pour generously over his ears gathering in a billowy mess across the base of his neck and drawing out the shape of his broad, yet toddler-sized shoulders.  He stands tall for his age, solid and sturdy, yet trim and more boyish than babyish.  His legs are long and bowed, just like his Daddy's, and his hands and feet are large and proportionate to his build.  He is no longer a baby, but he is my baby.

His eyes are wide and round, mostly a smoky blue with a dark defined line around each iris that enhances their brightness.  The color changes in certain lighting, and sometimes they appear gray or even green like mine.  He has big, deep pupils, also like mine, that let in too much light and make it seem like he is zoning out when he is actually focusing on something intently.  He already has little squint lines, and he will probably love sunglasses when he understands their purpose.  His eye lashes are a dirty blond and long and straight.  They are beautiful; he is beautiful.

As he is getting bigger, his once unblemished skin, so delicate and pure, is taking a beating.  Scrapes and scratches, bumps and bruises, all normal for curious and fearless little boys, appear sporadically depending on the day's activities and accidents.  He has one pinhead freckle on the center inside of his left calf, about 2 inches below the pea-sized upside-down-heart-shaped pink birth mark near the fold of his knee.  His chest reveals another, only a tad darker, smaller and of no defined shape while a round one adorns the bicep of his right arm, this one light in color and eerily identical to one of his Daddy's.  The small linear nevus he had on his scalp above his right ear is covered by his luscious locks and the stork bite on his spine at the top of his neck has faded.

His face is smooth with soft features and rosy cheeks.  The cold weather dries them out a bit, so we rub in a little Aquaphor there and under his button nose every night after his bath.  He is the spitting image of myself as a toddler, same mischievous smile and pouty, red lips, same slender neck and tiny, slightly protruding chin.  It is uncanny how he can so strongly resemble his mother and yet still be the most beautiful boy in the world.  His expressions are different though; when he is deep in thought, concentrating, or battling frustration he looks just like his Daddy, who was the 2nd cutest boy in the world.

His alter-ego, Destructo Dan, is a double dose of payback for all the years of joyous torture we gave our own parents; but Jack himself is the sweetest, most charming little angel with the kindest heart and friendliest nature.  He says "hiya" or "heyyo" to nearly everyone in passing, and if his greeting is reciprocated he will either flirt with his shy smile or scrunch up his face with his silly one.  Both Jack and D-Dan are willful and crazy smart, and welded together they make up my precious little Jack-Bo, a spirited, spunky, intrepid adventurer.  He is daring and brave, a natural thrill-seeker, already appearing athletically inclined and physically advanced.  His heart is gentle and loving.  He gives kisses generously, and he is undeniably the best "spooner" I have ever had.  At night he cuddles close and wraps his arms tightly around whichever one of us lays with him in his bed until he falls asleep.  Jack-Bo is my little cherub champion. 

Jack-Bo loves making "cookies" out of Play-Do.  He gets excited every time he hears a train and he points at every airplane.  It is funny how those things don't even register in my mind until he points them out to me; it is like a back-to-basics lesson in observation.  He loves balls and knows the difference between football and basketball; even though we went to all the Falcons home football games, he seems fascinated with basketball on TV.  He loves going to the zoo with Mommy; his favorite part is the petting zoo where he hugs and kisses the goats and pigs in between brushing them and patting them firmly.  He understands when something is "hot, hot," although he seems to use the same logic to identify any kind of danger zone, and typically it doesn't stop him anyway.  He loves to be outdoors.  He loves playgrounds and hikes and walking the dogs.  He holds Tug's leash now and knows not to let go.  He uses a spoon and fork and he pretty much only wants to feed himself now, so meals are messy, but he is a great eater who enjoys a variety of foods and is so far not picky at all.  Currently his favorite foods are hummus, broccoli and "fruities."

He is talking up a storm now, mostly in a language only we (and those closest to him) can understand.  He says some common phrases such as "I'm thirsty" or "Here ya go" and even "I love you," and he knows "Thank you" and uses it at the right times.  He tries to repeat words when we say them, but often only our intonation is matched while the phonetic sounds are somewhat off.  Sometimes repeating the word over and over actually makes him try too hard; he typically says it more clearly the first time before we attempt to drill it into his brain.  Pushy parenting at its finest.  His vocabulary is certainly expanding rapidly though.  Some of his newest words are broccoli (bok-ee), okay (oikee), and today he said "happy" repeatedly and perfectly.  It seems every day he adds at least one new word into his memory bank, and soon I am sure we will be unable to remember what it was like before he could talk.  Just like we don't remember our lives before him.

Not a day goes by that I am not thankful for my son.  He is absolutely perfect just the way he is.  He brings me immeasurable joy, and my heart is overflowing with the love I feel for him and from him.  Gratitude is a word I truly understand now, and no matter what hand I have been dealt elsewhere in my past, the cards all led up to this moment, this life, this mother of this perfect child. 

Tonight, as I tucked him into his bed, with no covers b/c he hates them, I kissed him and said "I love you, Jack," to which he responded "happy."  Then he smiled and puckered up to kiss me back.  My child is happy.  I am happy.  Happiness is something we can't buy.  It is often fleeting, and sadly, when we have it we can't bottle it up and store it for later.  For some it is a never-ending quest, the pursuit of happiness, all part of the classic American dream...but for me, it is not a dream.  It is real...as real as the stars, even when occasionally hidden by a cloudy night.  For me, happiness is ever present...b/c after all, I am "Mommy" to the most beautiful boy in the world.