Do you think the Irish in-laws would be offended to learn that I always thought that thing was a gnome?

Somewhere in the past few weeks, in between catnaps and nursing, my baby turned into a big boy. I know that I've said this SO MANY TIMES over the past 21 months ("He's so big! When did that happen? All of a sudden he's such a big boy!") but this time IT'S TRUE.

My friends who've had children so close together warned me that this would happen. They tried to convince me of how strange it would be to bring home a little tiny baby and put said baby next to my not-so-tiny-anymore baby. They said that the contrast of that image would change Christopher from just being my baby to still looking like a baby, but just a really big one. Giant Baby, if you will.

They were right. For about, oh, a DAY.

Then he turned into a big boy. A big boy who eats KETCHUP. Which, honestly? EW. But it was inevitable, I realize, considering his Daddy owns a t-shirt that states, "I Put Ketchup On My Ketchup." And it's true. Ketchup on everything. Ugh. But I digress.

Just in the past few weeks, baby Christopher disappeared into the far recesses of my memory to be replaced by this little child who can run and jump, who spins around so fast that he makes himself dizzy and falls down, and who stands on the sofa, kicks his feet out in front of him and lands on his bottom. This is, without question, his favorite thing to do right now. Each time he bounces on that little bottom he squeals with delight and giggles as he balances himself to do it all again. And so begins my life as the mom of active little boys.

Beyond the physical changes, something has happened in his mind. He's developed an IMAGINATION. He picks up pretend snacks (off of the floor. I know. And yes, it does speak volumes. Volumes which I will not admit to.) and shares them with you when you ask. He can sit on the stairs of his grandparents' house and play FOREVER with this little ceramic leprechaun. He carries his own baby around the house, calls himself "Daddy", balances the doll on a pillow while I'm feeding Jake, and even burps him when he's all done.

Where did this come from? I have NO IDEA. It is certainly not something that I've fostered. Of all the attempts I make at educating my child in the ways of the toddler world, teaching him how to pretend never even crossed my mind.

Again, I find myself completely fascinated by the creation that is my child.