- He loves to dance. His dance moves often start with a head bob and end with a booty shake.
- Sometimes his dancing involves a coy, one-shoulder shrug.
- He talks. All the time. Apparently, in some Southeast Asian dialect nobody else on Earth speaks.
- When I say he adores stuffed animals, I am participating in a gross understatement.
- This morning, I asked him, "Can you say 'I love you, Mommy?'" He nodded, then gave me a kiss.
- He is the Neil Armstrong of baby eating habits. He loves onions. He eats lemons. He has never refused anything we've put in front of him.
- He found an album of his baby photos yesterday. When I asked him, "Where's baby Ethan?" he smiled and pointed at himself. In every picture.
- When he does his Grumpy Face, it's like I'm looking in a mirror. Albeit a magical, time-traveling and gender-altering mirror.
- He has started trying to make fart noises with his mouth. This is my fault.
- He laughs every time he does "tooters." This is also my fault.
- He continually does things out of the blue, for the first time, like it's nothing. Such as feed himself pudding with a spoon. He was completely nonchalant, and Noah and I were enthralled.
- Remember the dancing? He dances vigorously to The Office theme song, every time he hears it. Yep, my fault. He probably recognizes it from when he was in utero, aka the time I was surviving on Cinnabons, BLTs and John Krazinski.
- He can hear a chocolate wrapper crinkling or the tinkle of the lid to the crystal candy jar (for I present my candy in style) from a distance of up to 400 feet.
- Outside is his favorite place. Particularly if he is being held. The stroller? Meh.
See? This post contains time travel and an unsatisfying drop-off in rising action. Lost, here I come.
P.S. DON'T TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED IN LAST NIGHT'S FINALE. I didn't see it because the ONE NIGHT Noah has to work in months happened to be LAST night.