A 9 mo. Old Wee Strappin’ Lad aka: WSL

Could it be? My sweet baby boy; our Little Big Spirit Running, that you’ve entered into three quarters of a year in age? Nine months and a few days past when you found your place in this realm, here on earth. Leader from the sky; Wyndham Nighanagiizhig Tobias Mills.



You’d been dreamt about by me. Dreamt about by our elder as a wise leader from the spirit realm; here now, to run wild, happy and free. Running to discover the knowledge you have, as given to you by our grandfathers. But first it’s your toes to discover…tiny little nubs round and sweet as corn apparently, as you repeatedly flex them up to your mouth to gobble and slurp upon. The tickle of grass you clench and gritty feel of dirt you claw with glee. Your voice, your limbs, the magic in every corner. Every day is pure joy and exploration through your eyes, transposed into me. You give us such complete and natural bliss. The world is different now to us, to me, through your wise young eyes…


Already I daze into memories of when you were so delicately wee. Clenching fists, clinging hold, warm pink wrinkled skin.


Now, you are a bouncing, laughing, babbling rough houser. A bear cub, indestructible it would seem. Still, gentle kisses I shall place upon your brow. Daily, you melt my heart and bring it to soaring heights, simultaneously. Of which time in particular? Only days ago, down by the lake under a tree, as you rolled back and forth from one set of loving arms to another, blowing impossible amounts of raspberries all over our necks and cheeks. At first you were just doing it because it was neat to you, then upon understanding that the peals of laughter were induced by YOU, you continued on to provide us with that delight, with intent. This, for all of it’s simplicity was possibly one of the best moments in time yet, this old mama of yours has had.


Everything about you, is just the plain bee’s knees. Even your sauce. Even your feist now – as you challenge my momma ways. It tells me you are strong and independent. You shall succeed and venture into life through all the stages and stumble you may but fraught with love and support those cursed (necessary) stumbles will be. Grow and learn, my wee strappin’ lad. We’ll be here forever more, as long as we are living and able. To you I make that vow; in a way I never had and know full well how such a nurturing, stable, solid love environment can sustain a soul. Inspire it, provide for and feed it. As you climb the furniture, crawl at lightening speed, grunting and squealing all the way, I watch and soak up this precious time. For I know my boy, my son – this time is fleeting, and before too long, you’ll be placing gentle kisses upon my brow. Your charm, your wit and flirtatious ways beguile me. Those deep guttural giggles and chuckles that often burst into gales of laughter are the best medicine.


Yours is the most handsome/adorable face I’ll ever lay eyes on. (Aside from your Papa). Rich already in your expressions; from that of wide, mouth gaping merriment; to a serious furrowed brow of wonderment/concentration/dismay. My gut clenches and warms instantly at the sight of your locks that inch their way longer each day, to curl up around your soft ears and wide eyes; your neck, your temples. Lashes that are thick and ridiculously long to frame eyes that know more than you or I realize…deep and layered in hues of chestnut, hazel, navy and heather blue, flecked with gold. Wide and brimming they shimmer, a reflection of your old soul.



As you play with vowels and the beginning sound of words most familiar to you, ‘mama, pappa babba’ – my heart, it bursts. I pray daily for the patience and understanding it takes to raise you and am grateful for the small village that sustains us. I’ve come a long way because of you, this love will never fade away – because you are the best thing, baby. That EVER happened to me.








This mix is large and representative of our eclectic taste in music as well as the huge wells of love we wish to dedicate to our son through these song choices. From the mainstream, to our own indie friends and yes, the BSM’s too. We picked them together, so please enjoy. Turn it up, plug it in – dance around on your own or with loved ones.

7 Comments

  1. Reply

    […] projects. The most important one being, which I LOVE – my growing baby, my sweet WSL. The other biggie is that festival you’ve all heard me blather on about, the Eaglewood Folk […]

  2. Reply

    […] and all other sorts of slow simmering goodness, here I come! I get to simply sit and play with my WSL. Play and sing and go to the library, join a play-group and give him all the attention and love he […]

  3. Reply

    […] – I don’t feel like rolling that way right now. If you want some of that you can go here, or here to visit some of what my alter-ego produces. I am going to give you a brief background […]

  4. Reply

    […] the land of the WSL however – we are experiencing technical difficulties. Err, that is to say, he has begun […]

  5. Reply

    […] been months since we transitioned from co-sleeping to the WSL sleeping in his own bed. That was no easy feat. Between me and the BSM or  us and our boy. We were […]

  6. Reply

    […] Wyndham, our WSL, aka: Wee Strappin’ Lad – we were lucky enough that our elder received his […]

  7. Reply

    […] 9 Month Old Wee Strappin’ Lad: Aka – WSL (How my heart bursts and still does) […]

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