We are on a fast ride to the true end of babyhood. Perhaps I've written that already. But this time it seems a bit more true. Once you are two, I can't give your age in months any more. You probably won't be nursing (much) anymore. Maybe we'll be super proactive and attempt a ride on a potty train! And in all likelihood, it will mean the end of babies at our house. For unless God gives us a really big surprise (and a complete mental breakdown), you are our last baby. I'm excited about the possibilities opening up as you and your brother get older. New experiences we can share with you both, a growing independence that means I have no excuse for the house looking this way, and a widening of our world. It's not so bittersweet anymore, just incredibly exciting.
I love it when you: surprise us with new words. "Digger!" "Wallaby!" "Cheese!" "Deigo!" "Mine!" Still no major word for Patrick. Play funny games with your toys, like making your babies drink from your cup. Giggle with your brother. Make up games with your brother. Put yourself in mortal peril with your brother. Cuddle in bed with me in the morning. Run to hug your Daddy.
I am less enthralled with: licking the felt board during storytime at the library. Clawing my face and laughing maniacally. Screaming "MINE!" and grabbing something from your brother. Throwing your food on the floor. Standing on Danica to get something forbidden off the table. Playing chase at inopportune moments, like Target. Eating markers at church. Peeing on the carpet and then stomp in it when I'm trying to change you.
I remember doing all this stuff with you last year and it was so hard. You wanted to get down and MOVE, but you only had Robeeze and those didn't work so well at the pumpkin patch. But we are at the point where you and your brother can do a lot of the same stuff, which is awesome defined.
It's just so much fun, my love, to be your Mommy.
Love
Mommy
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