We were in a rhythm at this time last year: waking, playing, nursing, snuggling, loving. I loved keeping him with me at all times. I was head over heels in love. I know some would say I spoiled him. Instead of worrying about what others thought, I wore him as frequently as possible. I neglected bulky contraptions made for babies in favor of feeling the warm baby on my chest and smelling that baby smell as I went about my daily chores. I kissed that baby every chance I got. I admired his fingers and toes. I gazed into his eyes. I enjoyed him and didn't worry about the 'bad habits' I might be creating. We connected. We loved. We cherished. Fast forward to today, he's not spoiled. He's happy, independent, social and loving. Although he hurriedly goes about his business of ring stacking, ball throwing, filling and dumping, cart pushing, cabinet inspecting and pet hugging, he's never more than a few feet away from me. He doesn't need me to entertain him, he just likes to know I'm there. We have no gates, he knows what's off limits and stays away from the stairs. He listens quite well. He plays independently, but close enough in proximity to occasionally stop his business, to come to give his mama a hug, just because. I can't imagine anything that has ever made me more happy than being his mama.