Happy Seventeen Months, Little Big Man!
As I type this, you are taking your baby thermometer out of its packaging, and then carefully fitting it back in. Sometimes you are more successful than others, and at those moments you can't get it, you run over to me yelling a semi-frantic "Help! Help! Help!"
I'll always be there to help you, baby, no need to get all crazed about it.
So goodness, my friend, we have been so busy. You, in particular, are busy busy busy. I realized after last month - when I noted down all the words you know -- that I left out a whole bunch. I'm too frazzled to go through it now, but it's a pretty significant list. And of course it just keeps growing.
I've got pictures and stories and all kinds of things stocked up in my mind, but I am afraid they are going to have to wait until the mini Thanksgiving break. Your Aunt Kdogg is on here way to Ptown as we speak, so we'll have a lot more after this weekend.
Oh, I will say one thing, though. You've learned the word "poop." For some reason, you say it much better if you whisper it, so it's pretty funny to see you lying on the changing table, whispering a gentle "poop" to me on a daily basis. Speaking of which, I think I have some work to do on your bum right now.
So yes, Happy Seventeen Months. I know this is not the usual birthday fare, and I would love to compose a fabulous post on all the changes you've been through this month, but it will have to come later...
I love you, Teo!
hmmm. my husband left for a week-long business trip, leaving me solo with little a, age 10 months. And it was really, really lonely and hard. For one piddlin' week.
So give yourself some credit: you're doing AWESOME. really.