Like any self-respecting helicopter parent, I have observed a thing or two about my son in all my hovering.

He has yet to utter a word, and mean it.  He hasn’t fully transitioned to a sippy cup.  There is little to no demonstrated interest in walking.  And he has not mastered a single eating utensil… not even the spoon!

But I will tell you what my son can do.

He squeals with joy every time the dog pads by, praying to go unnoticed.  He is a remote control enthusiast.  He steals Daddy’s glasses any chance he gets. He cries profusely when his trolley hits a dead end at the far side of the hall.

The tiny thing blows kisses.  He exuberantly throws a ball.  He hands you his last blueberry.  He waves a fervent goodbye.

In the morning, he is content to babble softly and “read” his books until his family arrives to wake him.

And — and! — this beautiful, sweet boy can do “cheers.”

So forgive me if I drink to all of that.