I love a year and a half.

I love the enthusiasm that comes with the development of language, I love the strengthening of our bond because he can decide between oranges and blueberries, and confidence it gives him when I understand him.

I never want to forget how he emphatically says “YEAH!” to every question asked, whether or not it’s directed at him. I love the way whenever I sneeze, I hear his little voice say “Bess you. Bess you. Bess you.” until I respond with “thank you!”.

Not since he was a day or two old have I wanted so badly to freeze time, so that he never grows out of saying ” a wadoooo” for both “water” and “I love you”.

I love the way he runs around and plays like a big kid, but comes back to me every so often to be held for a minute before he’s off again.

I love that when I put music on he starts to dance, pumping his little fists in the air.

I love the way he yells “MAMAAAAA” unnecessarily loudly when I step more than 3 feet away from him in public.

I love the way he echoes everything I say, and ends every sentence with an upward inflection.

He amazes me every day with how much he remembers, like that a certain highway leads to the zoo or to his best friends house, or that when he wants to go home, he starts asking for his house.

We have told him a few times that there is a baby in mommy’s belly, and the other day as he was climbing all over me I said “oww, watch out for the baby!”, and he stopped, put his hand on my stomach and said “belly”.

I felt completely overwhelmed and teared up at the realization that my first child was aware of my second, in however childlike a way.

It’s not going to be that much longer until I share my arms with another little blessing, but until then, I’m going to soak up all that is Sebastian.