It's the word that comes to mind most often with him these days. This one is so much more of a mystery to me. Perhaps that's because I can hardly find any of myself reflected in him--not in his face, not in that copper hair, not the mesmerizing blue-grey eyes, and definitely not in his personality. He has an intensely aggressive temper, but also an equally fierce embrace. One moment he's quietly playing on his own as if I'm not even there, the next he's hurling all the toys across the room--with an oddly unnatural strength for his size, I might add--and screaming angrily while laser-locking his eyes directly with mine. Not two seconds after that, he'll shimmy over for a snuggle.
I thought I had my game plan figured out the second time around, that everything I learned with my first would surely make me a smarter parent with my second. I'd have the upper hand now. Not so, not one bit; I still sometimes feel as clueless as ever. And terrified of those laser eyes.