He is scarcely the tiny breeze he was when we first met; he is now a dynamic, powerful, gale-force wind - a wee hurricane. He has changed so much I can hardly keep up, and he continues to evolve and grow faster than a williwaw. Yet he still lives up to his name:
The name Zephyr has evolved from the ancient Greek word "Zephyros", meaning light and beneficial. The Zephyr is a gentle breeze from the west during the summer solstice, and is comfortable for the people it blows upon.
For his birthday, we let him eat all the blueberries he wanted. I even put freshly-whipped cream on some of them (this confused him, and I think he prefers them unadulterated). He had two (tiny baby-sized) helpings of pumpkin pie. And for dinner I made him special turkey broth-soaked tofu cubes, which he happily crammed into his mouth one by one. He really loves tofu.
Zephyr is going through a clingy phase right now, preferring playtime from the comfort and safety of a lap, or opting for cuddles and tickles rather than balls and cars. He is giving many more hugs and wet, open-mouthed kisses, and I just can't get enough. I expect it's a developmental milestone about to strike, so I'm relishing every delicious, snuggly moment before he's too busy running down the cats and climbing stairs to hug his mama.
He sings with us during his lullabies, lilting, making the sweetest babymusic. He dances to all kinds of music and with equal aplomb: Cat Stevens, Kanye West, Department of Eagles, Andrés Segovia, and the lyrical stylings of his two parents - an earnest presentation of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star (sung desperately to stave off a launch off the changing table while struggling him into his nightly jimjams) will usually invite him into a little on-the-back dancing. Usually his dance is a back-and-forth head bob, but he will sometimes employ the full knee-bounce if the groove is just right.
Our little boy is a thing to behold. I can't wait to see what the next year has in store for us.