Letting Go

This past Sunday, we celebrated Baby T's first birthday (pictures to follow). He's not quite walking yet, but that hasn't stopped him from getting into anything and everything he can. He's become quite the little escape artist, actually. This afternoon, I was struggling to keep my eyes open as I fed him his afternoon bottle and as he finished, he wriggled free of my grasp and speed-crawled out of the family room. Little did I know, he was going to rouse his big sister N from what should have been her naptime. Suddenly, from above, I heard N call out, "Hi Mama, the baby is here with me." Groan. So, I put away any thoughts I might have been having about afternoon naps (for anyone) and went upstairs to catch my little diaper wearing Houdini. He was as unhappy to see me coming as I had been to chase after him. He caught sight of me opening the gate at the top of the stairs, grinned his 4 tooth grin at me and made a hasty retreat to the kids' bathroom (one of his favorite places to escape).
I stopped for a moment and thought about how quickly these (almost) four months have gone since he and H joined our family. When he arrived, slightly underweight and still carrying the vestiges of 6 months worth of living in an orphanage in Ethiopia, he sat contentedly while Mom, Dad and his new siblings flocked to him on his little blanket island in the middle of the family room floor. He cried when one of us left him sitting there, or for that matter, even attempted to do so. Now, he's decided to turn the tables on us; me in particular. When I see that toothy grin now, I know he's ready for his own little game of hide-and-seek. And while a part of me is thrilled that he feels secure enough to venture off into the other rooms of the house unattended, another part of me is feeling uncertain about this next step.
He's even started standing, unassisted and walking while someone holds his hand. I know it's just a matter of time before he, and I, find it's time to let go.