Before Ryker was born I knew he was eager and ready to take on the world.
The loud noise of drums, the dog's bark and trucks racing by our main street home thrill him. He loves to be scared. The more you can make him jump out of his skin, the bigger the squeal.
He gets this from his Uncle Joe. At nine months old he's already always looking for an adventure. You can truly see in his eyes him yearn for the next chapter. He longs to catch up with the "big kids". I long to hold him back.
My husband coaxed him to get crawling and I would say, "Why does he need to crawl when he can lie on his back and mommy will bring him whatever he needs?"
Now that he crawls he longs to run.
His daddy stands behind him, holding his hands high above his head teaching him to "walk like a dinosaur" and I joke, "The moment he takes his first step I'm going to push him over."
In the lake, he strokes his arms and kicks his legs as if he would take off if we let go. We tried, he can't.
 |
Ryker's first meal. "I got this, mom."
|
He's the boy that wanted to use his spoon the first time he ate, the baby whose eyes grow wilder the higher in the air you toss him and the kid who will insist on tying his shoes every time.
I've said before how important it is to me that in parenting and loving him I give him life experiences, but that doesn't mean I am not terrified of the day he takes that upon himself and pulls into our driveway on a motorcycle, YouTube's a video jumping from a plane in Peru or emails us a photo of him surfing the Great Barrier Reef.