This guy. This goofball. He's ten months old. My baby.
It's too easy to constantly compare siblings, no matter how often we are cautioned against it. Growth and perferences and personality. Development and skills and accomplishments. But as much as I compare Juniper and Owen in my head all day long, I know that being his mama is a wholly and suprisingly unique experience, entirely different from mothering my fearless, independent June Bug.
He is thoughtful and sensitive and lovingly sweet. He is cautious and curious and loves to dance. He smiles his big toothy smile a thousand times a day (eight whole teeth!). He gives me big hugs and pats my back with his little hands. He is solid and strong and constantly moving - climbing over and on top of anything in his way. He chats and sings and babbles. He has the best laugh, a joyful, infectious, breathless laugh.
Whenever his sister is in the room, his eyes follow her every move, his expression alternating between adoration and trepidation. She scares him with her screaming and she knocks him over constantly, but he loves nothing more than being included in her games. Even if those games involve watermelon hats.