Well, we reached another milestone this week. My husband taught my son how to blow up a balloon. Now, if I was forced to teach anyone how to blow up a balloon in 45 minutes or less (or ever), I just do not think I could do it. But together, they emerged from this brief session victorious. And after many many many practises, he has mastered it. His sister has also given him finishing lessons in how to twist close a balloon so that it does not lose air. He will definitely be on deck for the next party as his lung capacity exceeds all of ours put together. Now, he likes to blow up balloons everywhere he goes-in the car, on the way to preschool, while he's watching a show, at the bus stop. I never gave it much thought, but learning how to blow up a balloon is a coordinated effort of timing and muscle memory. So, both his quick mastery of it and my husband's mysterious (to me) instructions impresses me. Just like him putting one foot in front of the other way back when and when he learned how to tell knock knock jokes and when he learned to do so many little(but big at the time) things, the evidence is stacking up, he is growing up.