Will

Will is my baby. My sweet, sweet boy.

He has many nicknames, which is funny because "Will" seems like a tough name to change up. He's most often affectionately called Wilson, but also answers to Buddy, Wilsonator and occasionally Wilberforce.

He has huge serious eyes, an adorable gap-toothed smile and sparse wispy hair.

He loves to climb and explore, and had broken both an arm and a leg by his first birthday.

He cries whenever anyone leaves the house, even if it's someone he's just met. I'm not sure if it's because he is sad to see them go, or if it's because he wishes he could go with them.

He was the most beautiful and perfect newborn I've ever seen.

Around the time he turned 18 months, I realized that he had far below the average 20 words that a child of his age should be able to say. He could say around 5 words, but mostly said "daddy". I taught him sign language for "please", but left it at that; assuming more words would be coming soon. As time passed, nothing really changed.

He will be 2 next month and can say about 10 words.

He is beginning speech therapy next month, and I'm excited to see the ways it will help him. Will is such a smart boy and understands so much, and I cannot imagine how frustrating it must be to be unable to communicate. It makes me sad that I have to guess at what he wants, how he happened to get hurt, etc.

I was excited this week, because he spontainiously said "Colin"! He has never made the "K" sound before, so this was huge! He also pointed to a picture of Mary holding baby Jesus and said, "Jesus". I don't know where these words randomly come from, but it's wonderful when he can finally shape sounds into meaning.

I am thankful to be the mother of this sweet and adventurous boy. We've shared two years of fun and books and snuggles and dancing around the kitchen to Mumford and Sons...and I can't wait to hear the things he's been thinking about.