That's a Familiar Sound

This morning Jacob awoke me for his morning feeding around 5 or 5:30 am. We made quick work of the meal and I tossed him right back in bed, happy tummy, tired baby. What seemed like a short while later I heard him begin to stir. It was between 6:30 and 7 am and I was NOT ready to get up. He babbled and wiggled and whimpered a tiny bit, you know, just enough that I couldn't go back to sleep because I was just laying there waiting for him to cry. Then I heard a noise that brought both dread and a soft smile to my face at the same time. Kerplunk. Kerplunk. Kerplunk. His crib is usually filled with binkies so no matter where he rolls they are at the ready to sooth him so I don't have too. I like to have three, but as life with an infant operates in a constant state of flux and binkies travel round and round the house, I've counted as many as seven at once. The familiar kerplunk sound he made this morning I haven't heard in over a year, probably two, but to me it's unmistakable. Kerplunk. Binkie overboard. One by one he threw three binkies out of the crib. Then a happy squeal. Next I heard a rattle jump ship followed by another giggly squeal. He's discovering just what his little body can do. His delightful, chubby hands are now his willing servants. No longer wild useless appendages. Finally by 7 am he started to cry and I drug myself in to play with him and have some "quality" time with my eight month old baby. You know the kind of quality time I'm talking about. The groggy, sleepy-eyed, use my body as a jungle gym while I sleep here on the floor kind of quality time.