how the heck I am responsible enough to raise a child and live in a grown-up house? Seriously, I can't remember to schedule a haircut for my dog, I regularly kill potted plants and eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch because I don't cook.
Yet I have been gifted with an amazing child who blossoms in spite of two parents who work full time and more often than not have a hellish drive home (For real, sometimes it is heinous--over an hour for about 12 miles. Bleh.). And blossom he does! This walking-thing is realllly catching on with E, and while he still looks a bit like the alien played by Vincent D'Onofrio from "Men in Black," the speed sure is increasing. He has started predicting my animal noises in his two favorite books, Moo,Baa,LaLaLa and Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb.
Chris asked me last night how I though E was doing in regard to developmental milestones. My answer is that he is delightfully, wonderfully average. I long thought that I would not be satisfied with a child in the 'average' category, but seeing many families raise children with devastating disabilities makes me think 'average' looks pretty darn good.