A perfect 10.

Calvin is 10 months old today. This is giving me panic attacks. I am so not ready for the toddler years. I want him to stay small and cuddly and easy to entertain. But what I want doesn't matter, because he's growing by leaps and bounds. He has four teeth, he's inching closer to walking, and he's completely done with baby food. And oh my stars is he heavy. He's becoming more of a kid and less of a baby every day. And while I mourn the loss of my baby, I really do love watching him grow and change. He's turning into a little person — a silly, expressive, rambunctious, opinionated, adventurous little boy. He loves to explore, to climb, to race around on his hands and knees after Mattie. He's fast. He's LOUD. He falls down and bangs his head (a lot). He eats a ton. He smiles all the time. He stands up in the tub. He opens every drawer, closes every door. He climbs the stairs at a rapid pace. He stands on his own, then flings himself into my arms, giggling.

He's adorable. He's perfect. And he's all mine.

(Though you'd never know it, because he is the spitting image of his dad.)

We love you, silly monkey.