Little John is at an age when everything is new and exciting and fun. (And occasionally frustrating.) He loves playing with things, he giggles and he thinks his brother is the coolest thing since sliced bread. Except he doesn't like bread - so...cooler even than that. 

He has recently become a mama's boy. He weeps when I leave him to go to work and he whines when I put him down to make dinner. He wants to be involved in everything and he is into everything. 

He seems to be a bit braver than his brother, already climbing to the top of the stepladder and wondering why it doesn't go higher. He giggles when he jumps and loves to swing more than anything. He's a little bit fearless. 

And every now and then I get this glimpse of him as a tiny human being instead of a baby. 

Like when we go to the river to throw rocks. He needs somebody to hold his hand (remember?...fearless.) but he is otherwise just like a real live person.

The other day we went out to lunch at a new place just after haircuts, and with the fancy faux hawk and the eating of the chips and salsa, I just couldn't get past his personhood.

And don't even get my started on the park. 

John is so happy most of the time it's hard not to love him. Not that I've tried. 

Because that would be useless.