6 months; 1 post

This has been a long time coming.

I would be apologizing profusely for my lack of attention to this blog as of late, but since you, baby girl, will have no clue how long it's really been between posts by the time you read this, I'm pretty sure you'll forgive me.  :)    [And if you're a friend or family that's just stopping by, you may want to get a snack and strap in. We're gonna be a while.. Really, feel free to take breaks and re-visit later].

I hesitated even typing "baby girl" right then, because it seems that somehow in just a few short months, you've become so much more a "little girl." Despite daddy's resistance to cutting your beautiful, curly, almost tuck-behind-your-ears-length hair to delay the process, you somehow just grew up. You're addressing people by name now (when you call out "mama!" to me, I can't tell you how my heart soars. I absolutely adore it. Remind me to get that on tape). You can even name all the kids in your daycare class. Of course, this started out with the most easily pronounced (Chase) and had us wondering if we needed to have a talk with Chase's parents about your future together and your seeming obsession with the little man. For a while there, we would ask you who was in your class and all you offered up was "Chase" (along with a bright, beaming smile that was probably just you being proud of yourself but totally kept us conjecturing about your pint-sized relationship). One time when I brought you to school and Chase showed up shortly thereafter, you screamed out his name several times in short succession and darted toward him. Clearly, this only furthered speculation.  ;)  And more recently, we passed Chase's mom in the hallway (nobody else in the vicinity, natch) and you purposely waited for her to come up to us before shouting "CHASE!" in greeting. I think she was flattered that you recognized her as his mommy, but I was compelled to confess my suspicion of your love affair and we laughed it out. She said they love you, too. But then you started rattling off "Jake," "Livlia" and "Hay-Lee." And my personal favorite [based on tonality alone], "Dru-Dru" (Andrew).  Apparently, Chelsea is now stuck saying "Chase," so I think he may have moved on. Playa.

The infatuation with BoBo continues, so you're quick to spot any dog in your viewing radius and call attention to its presence. Daddy found this extra comical when picking out birthday cards with you because every other one had a dog on the front. He said you kept walking back and forth excitedly hollering "BoBo!!" "BoBo!" "BoBo!!!" and pulling out each paper pup you discovered. Allegedly, there were about 15 cards on the floor before daddy realized what you were doing.

You also began using words correctly around months 17 & 18 (like hot and cold, shoes, nose, eyes, button, etc... my goodness there are too many to name). Daddy thought it was hilarious when he taught you to properly identify "boobies," so I'm anticipating the call from daycare about you inappropriately denoting your teachers' or classmates' chests any day. You can identify simple things (dog, duck, spoon, ball, eggs, pizza were among the first) and take direction well. My favorite version of this is asking you to "help mommy" do something. You're especially good at folding laundry (taking items out and putting them back into the basket, and then taking them out again) and "wiping" (using a paper towel or baby wipe to towel off your mouth. Or the floor. Or table. Or even daddy, whom you caught off-guard the first time when you went straight for the crotchal region. Hey - it's at your level. And apparently 'you dropped some food there, dad'). Even your teachers say that you become hyper-focused on certain "tasks," and will repeat them over and over. I'd ask if I should be worried about OCD, but I think it's a little early to tell. You have proven to be most helpful in throwing away trash, as the pantry is one of your preferred playplaces. Since you can open and close the door by yourself, you take great pleasure in coaxing mommy or daddy inside and shutting the door. You occasionally let us out when we bang hard enough. 

You can identify "boy" and "girl," but adults are all "mama"s and "dada"s. Which is actually quite cute. Daddy was initially very flattered when you pointed to a large, muscly African American gentleman on a magazine and said "dada."

And now you've begun putting words together. The first example was "good girl," which we use when Hannah is doing something correctly. Since that's not too often, I'm actually a tad surprised you picked this one up (just kidding; we use it on you quite a bit). You also say "up, please" when wanting to be picked up, and have been doing so for at least a couple months now. This has lately transitioned to "hold you" if we don't get you right away - probably because before you say up please you reach out your little arms and look up pleadingly until we ask if you want us to hold you. Since mommy is now in her eighth month of pregness, this is easier said than done for me and apparently frowned upon by BabyCenter. But I still do it. I'm already fearing the day you don't want to be held, so ... whatever BC. You're only 22 pounds anyway (!). 

The word "no" has entered your vocabulary as well; cutest in the form of "No, no Hanla. Stop!" (Said when imploring Hannah to cease licking, nudging or bothering you in whatever fashion). It is less cute when you say it to us. But I have taken to letting you choose the radio station on the drive to school every morning. Mommy tunes in and asks "this one?" To which you will either reply "no," with a hearty shake of the head, or "huh" (meaning, uh-huh) and a single, affirmative nod. Love it.  

I feel like you can communicate so much more efficiently, too. Since you can tell us when something "huhts," or point out/say what food you prefer. You let daddy know if you want "oh's" or "eggs" or "gits" (grits) in the mornings, for example. And every time I open the fridge and you spy the olives, you ask for one. (Interestingly, you love olives. Unfortunately, you have a strange compulsion to dip them in doggie water before completely finished. Are you washing the extra salt off?). You must take after mommy in liking the sour and salty stuff, because you've also recently expressed a love for grapefruit. Somehow, I don't think grapefruit is a favorite for most other 1 & 1/2 year-olds. 

You're also very good with animal noises. Each time we point out a monkey on TV, in a book or on the computer, you give us the "ah, ah, ah!" sound effects. Same for sheep, cow, horse, etc. Pretty much anything you can't identify or that doesn't make noise gets a growl. Which is kind of hysterical when you locate a squirrel or penguin and go "rrrrrr!" 

Evil squirrels...

Storytime has evolved into you 1. patting out a spot on the floor, accompanied by the instruction for mommy or daddy to "sit" (you're kind of demanding), 2. bringing us one of about three preferred reading materials (Hand, Hand Fingers Thumb; One Fish, Two Fish; Cat in the Hat), and 3. going to grab another book after about four pages or distracting yourself by pulling all the other books off the shelf. At bedtime, you'll sit obediently through several stories (unless you're supertired, which you indicate by motioning toward the crib sleepily and telling us 'no' when we ask if you want to read or try to sit down). 

In health news (because there's always something, isn't there?), we've gone through another couple ear infections, four [or is it six??] more teeth and a round of pinkeye in the past four months. Those were obvious irritations (as mommy can barely cope with your pain regardless), but then came the rash. This happened to occur during a rare stretch at the end of March when mommy was particularly immersed in work and had to stay late most nights and work over the weekends. I'd barely seen you in two weeks (though SuperJon did a wonderful job taking over) and was deep in PowerPoint purgatory when daddy called me at work. I believe his exact words were "I've been trying to reach you. Ansley has measles and we're taking her to the emergency room. And you can't be around her for a week because it can cause serious brain damage to the baby." Now mommy had never in my life cried in front of a boss or broken down in a professional setting (not that my job can be considered terribly formal)... until that day. The thought of not being in contact with my baby girl for a whole other week or harming my unborn child completely overwhelmed me and brought me to tears. Ok, caused a major meltdown let's be honest. After my terribly understanding boss allowed my exit, I sat in the parking lot and couldn't even start the car. Thank heaven Mia called and was somehow able to talk mommy off the ledge by assuring me that it was very unlikely that what you had was actually measles (though in my defense, daddy had totally said it like there was a doctor diagnosis backing that mess up), and that even if you did, I'd definitely been vaccinated and would not need the weeklong quarantine otherwise mandated. When mommy was finally able to pull herself together enough to drive, Mia and I met at the house to scour your vaccination records, since once we thought about it, we were also fairly certain you'd had an MMR shot in the not-so-distant past. The freakout concluded with daddy's final report that "The doctor doesn't think it's measles. It's probably only roseola or a viral rash." Didn't even require medication. Yeah. Let's give a pregnant lady a heart attack jumping to conclusions shall we? Thank God you were alright, but whew! Perhaps daddy was hoping to induce labor...

And then there was the call mommy received from school the following week asking if I might have an idea as to why your little bum bum had two small bruises on either side (Ms. Alecia noticed them while changing you). I was so stressed from the recent measles scare and more strenuous work schedule that I couldn't think why that might be the case until the moment I hung up. I called daddy immediately and lamented that I was sure we had unknowingly caused the bruised bottom by encouraging the repetitious singing of Ring Around the Rosey, during which you got so into the "all fall DOWN!" part that you would literally throw your feet out from beneath you and land smack on your buttocks with a loud thud. I'm expecting a call from social services at some point to inquire about our beating you to the point of bruising.

In more current events, you and daddy have been building a garden. Though it's been a long road and half the crop was compromised by those pesky squirrels and rabbits (hey, they ARE evil!), it's your project together and I know how proud daddy will be if and when you're able to harvest. You were such a good helper in putting it together and planting seeds. Even if you were a bit more interested in the water bucket and piles of dirt...

 

Day 1: Playing around the garden

 "I'm pretty good with a shovel."

"I totally got this."

 Day 2: Using the wheelbarrow just like daddy

 "I think this plank should move over here.."

 "Here daddy, let me help you with that."

 "Hold on; I gotta take a call."

 Yes, mommy sees you with your hand all up in that bucket..

And now we plant!

Your obsessions as of late include:

1. Dolls/Babies. Holy flipping goodness. If you feel the need to hold or play with one of your 5 (and counting) babydolls and don't see one in the immediate vicinity, you call out "behbee; behbee; behbee" longingly and circle each room hunting for a child. Most of the time, you prefer to have two or more behbees in your possession at once. None of your dolls have names, save Barbie (who is actually a Barbie). Funny thing is, you distinctly call her "Bawbee" in contrast.

You play-act with all of them; taking them in the tub and "washing" their hair, or removing clothes and changing diapers (which, obviously, in your current wiping craze necessitates an actual baby wipe). We have to make sure when you turn them over, pat their backs and put them "night-night" that we're not too loud or that little finger will shoot up to your mouth and warn us to "shhh! ("behbee sleep!")." At daycare you tend to make a beeline for the dolls when I set you down, and you crack your teachers up making them do all kinds of things (like ride the rocking horse and pet the stuffed animals). Supposedly, you get quite the 'tude if a playmate snatches one of "your" babies - even if you've set it down and moved on to other things (like "excuse me! that's mine"). Changing the babies particularly piques your interest, and you will claim to discover "behbee, poop!" at regular intervals. They tell me you're rather diligent in checking your classmates' diapers as well (omg!!), and will let your teachers know if someone's dropped a deuce. 

Improper? Perhaps. Helpful? Quite.

But you've always been a bit of a leader in the class. Last week when I sent you off, you ran to the dolls and began passing them out. Seriously. I watched you pick up a kid, call out "Chase," and hand it over when he came obediently to you. Then you grabbed another and called Andrew. Such a good little mommy. If a bit polygamous...

2. YouTube. I know, many grown-ups are a tad obsessive about this one, too, but you will honestly sit and watch 45 minutes of random videos on the internet like a pro potato. It's surreal. You clearly have your go-to vids, such as the Muffin Man (love to watch you bop your head up and down to the beat) and duck song ("and he waddled away.. waddle waddle... till the very next day"). You've grown tired of the gummi bear one, but that obscene underwear-clad dancing green jellybear was your singer of choice for quite some time. We've even found some oldies but goodies like the Elephant Show theme song (skinamarink) and Supercalifragalisticexpialidocious. When we've run through the favs list, mommy will ask what else you want to watch, and the answer to this question is inevitably "behbees" or "bobos." So we find some silly dog tricks or chubby laughing babes to satiate your fix. But sometimes you fall asleep.

3. The phone. Besides the fact that you are now "calling" people and pretending to talk to them, you're also quite proficient at the toddler games on mommy and daddy's phones. You especially like morphing animal flash cards, which you refer to as "Bobos." Basically, they show a warped animal shape, you shake the screen and it goes back to its original shape, then spells out the animal. You shake it again to get a new one. I'm fairly convinced you go through all the animals solely to find the dog and ape.

4. Dancing. Yes, daddy, we're in trouble. Aside from the fact that you actually require no music and "can dance all by yourself" (mommy swells with pride), you take great pleasure in doing the Night at the Roxbury head bop and waving your hands to anything with a good beat even while strapped in your carseat. [JB's "baby, baby, baby" gets you every time].

 

You've even taken to imitating silly movements mommy does with her hands and head. And when you're unrestrained and free of the car, watch out. One of your Valentines gifts was a Tik Tok-singing "sidestepper" monkey. You still love turning it on and groovin' with the monk. When you lay on the floor and began inappropriately thrusting your hips in the air at one point, however, we had to intervene. It was a smidge too 'Little Miss Sunshine' for the grownups ... though the intervention may or may not have been delayed by our rolling around cracking up at that visual. 

5. Bugs. Apparently, mommy scared you something fierce the first time you saw a bug and you were forever traumatized, because every little piece of fuzz, speck of dirt, thread, furball or dust bunny around must be carefully inspected to determine its non-bugness before you are satisfied. When you see any such offending particle, you whimper, point, cry out "bug!" and back away postehaste. Mommy's job is to then identify it as "not a bug" and dispose of it properly. This really sucks when it actually is a bug. You're also going through a phase where there are certain things you're scared of, but fascinated with. Which is utterly confusing for mommy, since I don't know whether to let you play with/see those things or hide them away. One such item is your "chatterbox Cookie Monster" that pretty much just says random phrases anytime his mouth flops open. You're just not sure why or how those sounds come out, so you go back and forth with whether or not you actually want him around. At Mia's house, that item is a porcelain mask with hat and feathers that hangs on the wall. I think maybe you're worried it will come to life suddenly, and you want to make sure it doesn't. It's ok. Mommy has always found that mask slightly creepy myself (don't tell Mia). 

6. Potty. Ok. So I've hitherto mentioned (once or twice) daddy's propensity for early potty training, which he began encouraging around month 17 with edible rewards (Reese's Pieces. How very ET, right?). It began by simply extending a Piece for the act of sitting down longer than two seconds, and then we started removing the pants and trying it at the same time each day when you got up. Now, you're totally preoccupied with anything potty, and frequently order "mommy, potty. daddy, potty. wipe." We are well aware when you pass gas, but you politely warn us that you've gone "toot toot!" after the fact. You also know exactly what it means to go "poop-poop" (not to be confused with KaKa - more on that later), but are less forthcoming with that info. Not that it isn't obvious. Any time you need to take a two, you stop what you're doing, find a sturdy object to brace yourself, and grunt away till it's done. Your little face will turn red, you won't let us touch you, and when we ask "are you pooping?" you lie and totally deny it. Daddy frequently tries to get you on the potty before the struggle, but when he asks if you want to sit down, you give a panicked "no.. no" in response.  

Now it's happened once or twice that you've had trouble with the 2s, and at these times mommy and daddy have panicked. Especially when you call for "help?" in the midst of fruitless grunting. Since being backed up also causes you to refuse food and drink, we went a little crazy the first time it occurred. Daddy came running downstairs (having heard your pitiful protests), whisked you up to draw a warm bath and ordered mommy out to retrieve prunes and .. suppositories (as a last resort). I combed two drugstores before finding the correct medicine, rushing back home and sprinting up the stairs – sure to find my poor babydoll writhing in pain. I rounded the corner to our bathroom to find a full tub: sans Ansley, but graced with something else. Something that surely could not have come from your tiny little (absence of a) back side. Could it? It was eerily quiet, so I listened for a moment and heard a muffled voice from your room. As I pushed open the door, you looked up contentedly from the book daddy was reading and flashed a delighted smirk that told mommy everything I needed to know. My kid can muster up a turd beyond her years. We took photographic evidence, but I'll spare any peripheral readers the graphic nature and refrain from posting the content here. Suffice it to say: holy crap.

Clearly, we're still not ready for a serious commitment, since everyone mommy's consulted says the new baby will completely throw off your sit and go mojo, but you're so interested in it, we can't stop completely. And though the plunge to PullUps or panties has not yet been made, you are suddenly hating to be changed in a major way. (Like, you throw fits when we mention the act of changing you and try to convince us to change a behbee instead). Despite this little hiccup, you've peepeed on your pot a handful of times. On Easter Sunday, you were bathing one of your behbees in your water table in the front yard when you noticed that this particular bathtime babe has a hole between its legs (I guess for drainage), and appears to "potty" when taken from the water. Of course, this brought on an immediate chorus of "behbee, potty! behbee, potty!" and required the hasty relocation of one of your toddler toilets to the lawn (where baby could properly sit and do its business).

After a good half hour of this process (dunk plastic child, let her wee, repeat), you mentioned the deuce. I was all set to drop a Hershey's Kiss in the water below the doll when we realized you meant YOU had to poo. And right there in the front yard, with Mia, Zade and anyone on our street who happened to be looking out a window in attendance, we didn't even think twice about stripping you down to sit on your potty (sorry!). After a minute of sound effects, mommy was joking with Mia about the likelihood of your a. actually going #2 in the pot, and b. doing so completely nekkid in front of the entire neighborhood, when you got up, turned around and pointed. And there in the toilet in the middle of the yard was your masterpiece. Everyone was so excited/proud/amused at once we could barely contain the cheering, laughing, praise and celebration. Zade asked if you had a piggy bank where we could reward you for your hard work, so we brought it down and he helped you insert a number of whole dollars. Then we realized that this looked really bad in the absence of clothes (we had at least wiped you and applied a diaper at that point) and subsequently retreated inside so as not to embarrass ourselves further in front of the neighbors.

7. Ka-Ka. No, not the Spanish translation. In this case, Kaka is your own shortening of Mia's pup's name: Kashi. Kaka is a mini LhasaPoo. You absolutely love him, and request him frequently. He is small and soft (like you!), so I understand the compulsion. When I mention "going to Mia's" or anything Mia-related, "Kaka?" is your swift response. But it's probably pretty funny for bystanders to hear a little toddler walking around hailing "Kaka!!" every few seconds when you're on a roll. It's exceptionally humorous when you're asking KaKa to sit, as "sit" sounds like the English slang for the translation of Spanish caca. But Kaka can entertain Ansley like no other. You giggle when he leaps onto the bed or runs for a toy, and when he does his circus dance (up on the hind legs batting the paws) you shriek with delight. You like to imitate KaKa's toothy smile. You take great care, however, to avoid his puppy pads - even when there's nothing on them. I guess because that's where "Kaka poop."  

8. Boxes. Bryker's bedding arrived a couple months ago and we saved the box for you to play with. Evidently, this was one of the smarter things mommy and daddy could have done, because you've since logged hours of playtime in the box, on the box, in the box with daddy, banging on the box while daddy is inside, asking mommy to join you on the box, hiding things in the box, peekabooing up and down from the box and just generally playing with the large, plain cardboard box. We are so not buying you any more toys (just kidding ;)

You're still a pretty good eater, unless you're teething or not feeling well. Grits are your fave, followed closely by Raisin Bran (I know. Go figure), and you frequently request tea as a beverage. Our fault for introducing you to it, I know. It's pretty much all juice all the time now, since you're still not so keen on the milk unless slurping it from the remains of your cereal (so perhaps it's the sugar content??).

And fyi, this entry has been brought to you by the color blue and the number 2, as those are clearly your current color and number of choice. I take it you're learning this stuff in school, because any time you have two things together, you will very plainly state "two. behbees." Or "blue. ball." Those are the ones you get every time, but I've been noticing more and more accurate identifications of red and items in groups of three as well. Your capacity to learn at the point is completely amazing to me.

You are just so entertaining, enjoyable, loving and cute!! Mommy is enamored with you and most everything about 20-month-old you. You've now started in on "dad-DEE" and "mom-MEE" (as opposed to dada, mama), you're hugging people goodbye, and you walk around with a purpose and occupy yourself with games and tasks. You smile on command and say "cheese!" when we're taking pictures (without prompting). Sometimes you make silly faces just because. I think I've been remiss in your journal entries because I've just been watching you live and trying to hold those moments in my heart. Suffice it to say that the fact that you're now hugging and giving kisses without prompting is my dream come true. Honestly–when you wrap your sweet arms around my neck and actually squeeze, mommy could cry from elation. Every time. And I think to myself, "this is why I wanted kids!!" Oh my geez I'm crying just thinking about it. And when I come home and you run into my arms with the biggest, best grin and request "more hugs".. Let me go ahead and call pregnant (and stop myself from gushing too annoyingly). It's overwhelming. Mommy is so blessed to have you in my life. I love you more than I could ever tell you on some blog. I hope someday you get to feel the same thing for your kids because it's pretty much incredible.

JAM(B)

{16 months just the other day}

 

The A Report

Present dislikes are:
wiping your hands and face after a meal
changing clothes
getting your hair washed
brushing your hair
putting your hair up
pretty much anything having to do with your hair
being woken up
cutting new teeth (we all dislike that one)
cold milk

Likes:
shaking your head vehemently in indication of dislikes
grabbing Hanna's tail
feeding yourself
green beans, mashed potatoes, sweet tea
playing with the hairdryer
pacifiers

soft things (like blankets & "bobo"s)
taking the dogs out (i.e. letting you grasp part of Hannabelle's leash while we do the corralling)
being held when you're upset or not feeling well
grape Tylenol
daddy

Your happy dance is my current favorite personality trait. When you're super-excited about something (like, for instance, stealing a sip of chocolate shake for the first time), you cock a smile, start with a shoulder wiggle and then quick-jog tap dance in place. You only do this when extra-specially pleased, so it's a treat to catch.

Since one of your favorite things is being tickled by daddy, you've actually begun requesting it by eyeing daddy suspiciously, backing up and snickering in anticipation of the attack. You even say a version of "tickle-tickle-tickle-tickle-tickle!" like daddy does when tickling. Then you try to do it to him. Presh.

Yesterday mommy was getting you ready for school and had only managed to remove the top half of your pjs when you began flailing your arms wildly. Daddy found this highly amusing and starting singing "I'm so excited, I'm so excited, and I just can't hide it" in accompaniment (a la the Pointer Sisters - or Saved by the Bell - depending on your generational preference ;)  You then worked yourself up into even more of a tizzy and got down with a whole body shake. It was so funny to us that we just sat there laughing and singing as much as we could remember to keep you boppin. I'll have to remind daddy that encouraging you to dance topless is perhaps not the most intelligent of ideas in the future...
 

I just think you really like music. Wheels on the bus might be your favorite, since you can do most of the movements that go along with it (kind of like dancing). Sometimes you even get your dollies in on the action by shaking them to the beat (daddy taught you how). We have two "groovy girls" dolls, their bed and stroller that we purchased at a garage sale down the street. Interestingly, you most enjoy sitting on the bed yourself and persuading us to push you around in the stroller.
Yes, it's built for dolls.
No, that doesn't stop you.
Or us (like I've said before: enablers).



You can now feed yourself alarmingly well, if not with complete accuracy. The dogs are looking mighty plump as a result.
But you are a great eater, and you sign for hungry and all done (you could probably say it, but actions are more fun, right?). Most of the time, however, you just sign for "more." In relation to everything. I like to think that when I'm holding you or giving you kisses, you're signing for "more mommy love." Usually it ends up being food or a paci. Or daddy.

You are finding your voice, though, and have been repeating certain words we say. Helping me fold the laundry one weekend, you uttered a perfect "shirt." Crystal clear. 

Hasn't been repeated since.

Other things come up more often. When Mia drove you around one day and you heard her tell the other cars to "go, go, go!" you locked it in your memory and have been shouting "go, go, go!" every time we're in the car (and sometimes when we're not). You've recently changed it to "ho, ho, ho" in honor of the holidays.  :)

I guess the repetitive stuff is easier for you, because after watching the "grasshopper" episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, you began singing "bop, bop, bop" in response to "do the grasshopper..." That or we have just watched certain on-demand episodes waaaay to many times. You're even parroting the advertisement that comes on in between stuff when the moose says "ya-yuh... sweet!" Your imitation of him is spot-on.

For some reason, most of your memorable incidents happen at school. Though you've regressed to the scream-cry when I leave (save the few times I've managed to sneak out during snack), we are often greeted by one or more of your friends attempting to crawl into mommy's lap with you or bring you a toy. One particular morning, I sat you down and doggone it if every boy in class didn't flock to you en masse. I though it was just precious, if slightly alarming. Quite the greeting, little princess. You must have smelled of syrup...

On a random Thursday, Mia dropped you off and disclosed that you and Chase had slow-danced that day. While holding hands. It's probably best I didn't see it in person, 'cause I fully believe my heart would have shorted out for a minute over all that sweetness.

We've been giving in on the no-pacis-except-at-bedtime rule a bit due to your recent tooth resurgence. It just seems to comfort you, so we leave an emergency paci (or "e-pac") at school just in case. One morning after we washed our hands, you walked right over to a (somewhat hidden) spare toys bin, reached down between a few things, and plucked out YOUR paci. I looked at you incredulously and said "There's no way you hid that there purposely... right?" The paci-filled Cheshire cat smirk you shot back was confirmation enough.

Unfortunately, not all your school time is filled with cuteness and pleasantly entertaining stories of play. I'm sad to report that your class officially has a serial biter. We're pretty sure we know who it is, but when they call and send home the note, the euphemistic and PC phrase is "your child was bitten by a friend." Well apparently, your little friend decided to become a cannibal and go in for the kill by biting the crud out of your plump little rosy cheek. The red marks lingered for days. Not that I blame his desire to aim there, but a kiss would have been preferable. You poor, poor baby. As it says on the sheet VK sent home, the course of action after such an occurrence was to apply ice, hugs and kisses, but I bet that hurt and scared you something fierce. The next day when I dropped you off, we found your friend Chelsea with a matching red mark on her puffy cheek and the kids separated into two groups. When mommy told Ms. Alecia that I hate for you to have been a victim, but I was a little glad you weren't the biter, she said "Yeah, Ansley doesn't really bite. She tends to slap."
*sigh* Exactly. 

(I should at least mention here, though, that your swatting/slapping instinct does seem to have lessened. Conceivably, we've rounding that corner and with any luck it will soon pass. Though it's sure to resurface sometime around May 5th..)

I am happy to report that we've finally turned your carseat around, since you exceeded the weight limit just recently. I really don't think it was comfortable having to scrunch your long legs up against the back anyway, so the timing was good.

We're almost ready for the holidays now. You can tell by the guest room dedicated solely to your presents. And by the ornaments strewn about hung on the tree (daddy had the amazing idea to have you help us put up decorations, which has resulted in your constant desire to remove an ornament and then unsuccessfully "put it back"). And the fact that there was snow on the ground for a few days just a couple weeks ago. Mommy and daddy took you out to play briefly, but it was mighty cold and your boots were not of the "snow" variety—they left you slipping and sliding with a buildup of sticky flakes on the soles. You sure did look darling nonetheless.

 

And now on to your brother, baby B... or should I say baby Bryker because...

iT's A BoY!

Or, as Dr. Cousins so delicately puts it, "It's a penis!"

Good thing, too, because daddy says when he thinks about it, he's not sure he could've handled more hormone-filled balls of emotion like you and mommy without reinforcement.

I have to admit, it does feel like the pressure is off at least a little with this blog, because I know he simply will not be as interested to hear about his paci-flinging, potty training, daycare days of our lives as much as you (being a girl) probably will. But I'll try to keep it up all the same and devote parts to both you and him.

So here's the update on you, little mister Bryker Jon:

Around the 10 week mark, mommy went and had her eyes checked. My prescription hadn't changed, so they rewrote it and sent me on my merry way. Lo and behold, about a month later I was driving to work and something just didn't seem right. I couldn't focus, and things looked blurry. So I sucked it up and wore my (very old) glasses for a couple weeks before they could get me in to re-check. Come to find out, a little baby was messing with my head and somehow affected mommy's vision! The doc said it isn't very common, but he'd seen it before. Hopefully it will go back after you're born, but you never know. Maybe you just wanted to ensure that I saw the world differently with you.  ;)   Most definitely, baby.

Speaking of appearances, everybody says they can see you much more, and noticed you much earlier than your sister (since you're #2, I'm not surprised). Daddy thinks you're sitting lower down, thus perpetuating that "boys are carried lower" wives tale.

I felt your first movement around 17 weeks or so. You've been quite active since then; reassuring me when I get a little nervous and reminding me of your presence. I like the swirls and rolls. They're probably the thing I missed most about being pregnant when I wasn't. But having a sweet baby to actually hold in your arms remedies that pretty well. It's quite possible we'll get to the point where you're taking up a bit more space and the jabbing starts to hurt, but I'll just enjoy the mini-flips and twists for now. Literally, you're doing them as I type. Awwww. My little fishie.

After your anatomy ultrasound, mommy and daddy had a date night at Red Lobster to celebrate and conjecture about the teeball games and campouts of the future. Daddy is very excited about these things, so even if you're not really into them, if you wouldn't mind just pretending for a while, that would be great. Thanks, B. You're off the hook if your sister likes them. ;)

We took a few bets on what you'd be, but I'd had a boy feeling for a while. Of course, this convinced me that I was actually having a girl and something was trying to throw me off, but you, my sweet little one, have been blessedly easy on mommy. I don't know what it was that made me think I'd be violently ill with a wee lad (ok, I do know - it was my mom and the difficult time she had). Let's just say I know how lucky I am, and I'm thankful for it every day.

Maybe (to quote a clever friend) if He only gives you what you can handle, I can't handle much. I like to think that I'm just meant to have your daddy's babies, and perhaps several of them, so God is taking it easy on me. I know that's not necessarily true because tons of people who deserve to have the easiest pregnancies have really tough ones, but that's what I'll choose to believe for now. It's ok if I'm delusional, cause I'm pregnant.

Just last week, there were a flurry of events (outside the womb) that had mommy and daddy on full alert, but turned out to be relatively minor. After our annual friend holiday party, mommy was walking (yes just walking) to the car, stepped off the curb wrong and sprained my ankle. I fell to my hands and knees—mostly because I was carrying stuff and couldn't put any weight on the foot, and daddy came running. It's still just a little sore, but the worst part was not being able to carry and chase after your sister. She so did not understand that.  ;) 

And then two days later, coming home from work, mommy was rear-ended on Wendover. When I finally got ahold of daddy (on the one day he left his phone at the office) to tell him I was not hurt, but they were towing my car just in case the airbag deployed late, he stopped listening after "towing my car," decided it was totaled, then proceeded to call his entire family to let them know. I felt fine, save a small amount of whiplash, but we did want to be sure you were ok so daddy and Mia took me to the hospital to get everything checked out. You will not be allowed on Wendover during rush-hour until you're 25, by the way.

But now we're past the half-way mark and everything (that can be checked) checks out. Mommy was way too giddy about getting a few small Christmas presents just for you. Ansley will be opening them in your stead, since your own hands are kinda small and tucked inside mommy's belly right now (probably shielding your face, as you like to do during ultrasounds).

We are so overjoyed to add another bundle of love to the family in several short months. I sometimes think I'm still in shock and not really processing it. Daddy often forgets I'm pregnant (ok I'm not going to hide it; I do too. Only 'cause you're so wonderful and quiet. Just know that it's a too-good-to-be-true kind of scenario, kid). We can't wait to welcome you into the world. Hopefully not until April/May, though. Just sit tight till then ;)

Septoberfest and a Little Announcement

{14 1/2 months and going way too fast}

The babbling has become very conversational lately, and I often feel like I'm holding a conversation with you, though you're saying nothing coherent. Your repertoire of actual words has grown to include ball, baby, bo (you adorably call all dogs "bobo"s), up, mia, bumpa, go, and juice. There are probably more, but those are fairly consistent. We're working on please and thank you.  ;)

And since we're on the subject of talking, your most favorite expression of excitement right now is the gleeful squeal. Though I am quite certain anyone who is not related to you would call it overkill, you like to let loose a short, piercing shriek when greeting your friends, playing with Hannah, and pretty much any time you're excessively psyched. I think it's perfectly delightful that you and Jake exchange quick scream-greetings when I drop you off, but since it also sometimes incites the other kids to screech and shout, I doubt your teachers find it so cute...

You may be teaching them bad habits, but at least they're helping you drop others. Thanks to daycare, you have also begun relinquishing the paci (save extenuating circumstances—like sleeping at night). You don't even put up a fight anymore when I remove it and send you off to play.

Of course, one of your favorite things to do is eat. Yes, you're still particular about milk and will only drink it once a day in warm bottle form (seriously, I'm just gonna put all the bottles up one day and be like uh-oh where did they go? Mommy and daddy are such enablers), but when you're hungry, it's go-time. I love watching you eat noodles, since you somehow got that 'lady and the tramp' slurp down and they disappear faster than I can twist. Pizza and pasta are high on your list, but your favorite is still barbecue and green beans. My little Southern girl! We know you're done (or bored) when those food- or sauce-filled hands dart up and rub the yummy goodness in your hair. [*shaking head in defeat]. At least it makes for some interesting hairstyles.

We took you to the Dixie Classic Fair in early October, though daddy felt you were still a little young to enjoy everything. Not necessarily, we found, since you downed half the 32-oz lemonade we'd purchased for ourselves and 3/4 of my roasted corn. You absolutely loved the petting zoo, even if you tried to eat the "feed carrots" yourself and kept trying to kiss the goats (I know they kind of look like dogs, sweetie, but they're not). And aside from a 45-minute power nap, you hung like a champ. After your nap, we rode a couple rides and called it a day, but I'm glad we went. You even tried your first taste of cotton candy and funnel cake. Next year will really be a treat. If we don't give you a stomachache...

 "I think I'm gonna like the fair!"

 "It's a bit sunny. Dad, glasses STAT"

 (Maybe you'll like the rides better when you're old enough to go on them yourself.
And you're awake)

 (Feeding the goats. Right before you tried to kiss them)

 

"I'm sorry; what is THAT?"

 "Niiiice alpaca. Sooooft."

You've definitely become more.. sensitive? aware? adult? of late, and when you're hurt or sad it takes a bit longer to calm those nerves. It's clear this is part of growing up, though, since it's hard to understand those feelings at first. Just this morning, something fell on my foot and when I cried out in pain, you got scared and ran to me whimpering. It's really amazing the things you're starting to grasp. You seem to swat out randomly when frustrated, since you can't yet say what you need. Sadly, the dogs and a few brave friends at school receive the brunt of those beatings. We try to curb it by showing you "sweet" and "gentle," but it's a natural part of your development, too, and supposedly quite normal at this stage. Most recently, you've started building up tantrums in the middle of meals. When you've had enough and can shake your head no more, you wind up and lob food away like a major league pitcher. We try really hard not to laugh.

You have a unique fascination with shoes and the act of putting them on, and will often grab one of daddy's large dress shoes and haul it over for a fitting session. Funnily enough, you're also fairly obsessed with your reflection, and must think you look especially good in hats. Every time we place one upon your head, you hold it steady and slowly walk to the mirror to check out the hotness. It is so flipping cute.

You're still as active as ever, which was totally evident at your school Halloween party where all the other kids sat quietly with their snack as you climbed on the table and danced around your chair (let's not practice those two things together in the future though, k?). We spent the majority of the time chasing you round the room to ensure a minimal amount of destruction and flailing.

For some reason, you can't even ride your bounce & spin zebra like a docile child; preferring instead to climb upon its back and "trick-ride"- if you will - whilst standing. Your play has become more involved, too, and your mimicking more accurate. Mommy brought you a cheerleader puppet as a prize when daddy and I went to New York, and the first night we played with it, daddy was holding her up - pretending to talk to you in a lovely feminine voice. You studied him closely for a few minutes, then grabbed the doll by the back of the neck, held her up yourself and started yapping away in a totally different voice than your normal jabbering. I was amazed and quite proud, but it may or may not have been a little more maturity than I was ready for at 13 months.  :)

On Halloween, Meme Kay and Bumpa brought you a giant orange punching balloon and spent maybe two minutes showing you how to use it. Since then you've been picking it up, wrapping it around your fingers and pounding away merrily like it's second nature.



And for your viewing pleasure... a little dance:


You stun me daily with the things you learn, and what you just assimilate. Though you still think brushing you teeth means sucking the toothpaste from the bristles, we're working on modeling that more correctly. You'll get it eventually. And daddy says it's ok for now, cause they're just 'practice teeth.'  (hah. oh my goodness..)

And here are a few more Halloween pics just because you're so adorably precious:

 (Your actual Halloween Eve costume)

(First lollipop ever... that I know about. Could not remove it from your hand until it broke apart and fell on the pavement).

  (Ok, so this isn't quite the smiley happy photo you were probably expecting, but seriously - look at those two faces and tell me there's no resemblance!)

In case you didn't know, you are daddy's absolute pride and joy. I would say you're a daddy's girl, but it's more than an understatement. You have no idea how much daddy loves you. In fact, I think he's been waiting for you his whole life. The two of you romp and play, and you have the most special, sensational laugh that you reserve just for him. You were absolutely made for each other.

Speaking of which, you are going to meet someone else very special who was made for you in May(ish) of next year!

I have utmost faith that you'll be a wonderful big sister (amidst the squeezing and smacking that is sure to occur), but what I really want you to know is that you were a big part of the reason we decided to have another baby. True, we'd always talked about having kids close together because of the bond near siblings can share. But mostly, mommy and daddy adore you to pieces and consider you the most wonderful blessing we've ever received. Our enormous love for you somehow made our hearts grow bigger and brought us to the conclusion that another baby like you would bring double the joy! Amazingly, God saw fit to grant this wish quickly, and has entrusted us to grow and raise another one of His children. It truly overwhelms me to know His grace. And you are going to love having a little.

(See? You're already overjoyed ;)

Preg2 Update:
Mommy is happy she can still fit into a few pairs of pre-maternity jeans, but that will be short-lived. Baby b (you're a; this one's b) is starting to grow and taking me with it! My apologies if I've simply not had the gumption to update your blog lately, but growing a tiny human is somewhat exhausting. And perhaps the thought of keeping this up for two of you is a bit wearying in and of itself.. 

Amazingly, though I've definitely been tired and less-than-energetic, it's not as bad as last time when mommy took naps at least twice a week in the first trimester. This is either because my body is adapting and saying "hey, we've done it before; we can totally handle this," or because there just isn't nearly as much opportunity to be tired with a little Action Ansley scampering about this time around.  :)  Same thing with the smell sensitivity, since I'm positive that at this point last time I was doubling over with a whiff of meat or garlic. This time? Meat: good. Garlic: goood. What's not to like?

Dear John

I wanted to do something different today in honor of daddy's birthday, so I wrote the following for him:

I like that you type with your fingers on the right keys; that you care whether or not your clothes match and when you do your "fun hair" on the weekends.

I love that you give me a real hug when you get home from work and how you get Ansley in the morning sometimes when I'm too tired to wake up. 

I like that you say you love me 20 times a day, and that every time you mean it. 

I love that you've wanted a family since college, and that it's totally obvious when I see you with Ansley. 

I love how excited you were to finally get a truck so you can do "man things" and get dirty (but that you feel the need to clean it immediately when that dirt shows up). 

I like that even though you detest normal shopping, you have fun buying toys and kid stuff. 

I like that you can cook, and that you don't have to follow the recipe (sometimes ;). 

I love that we somehow always end up matching even though we claim not to try, and that you actually know how to iron a shirt and don't make me do it. 

I like that you always want to ride with the windows down-even if it messes up my hair, and I love that you automatically assume the driving position when we go somewhere together. 

I like that you're just as happy to spend time with the fam as you are to have a guys' night, that you "get sucked in" to my shows, and that you get so much joy from playing with A. 

I love that you still call me beautiful and that you get mad when I dismiss it. 

I like that even when you dream-cheat on me, you feel bad about it (haha sorry about that). 

I like that you go through your mail with an actual letter opener, that you have files for property, and that your favorite games involve money and real estate (dork ;)

I love that you look good in a suit. 

I like how you call margaritas "marg"s, that you get overly-emotional and cry at the movies (Toy Story 3…), and that you have an abnormally strong gag reflex—even though it requires that I handle the particularly saturated diaper-changing occasions.

I like that your dancing repertoire includes the James Brown and random handstands, and that neither of those require much liquid courage before they're unleashed.

I love that you think date nights are just as important as I do.

I love that you are genuinely touched by peoples' kindness and faith, and that you're constantly striving to give more of yourself. 

I like that you are just as awed by your love for Ansley as I am. 

I love that you're my lobster, my penguin, and my other half; and that this list doesn't even cover half of what I love about you.

Happy 33rd!

J.A.M.

-McKenzie

Day-to-Day A

{13 months - and a pinch}

August was a really busy month for us, what with the 4 birthdays in 1 1/2 weeks at the end of it. We celebrated your "first" with almost all of your aunts and uncles, and of course all the g-rents. It was a big turnout for such a little girl (I cannot explain to you how lucky you are little one), and though you were a bit timid at first, you warmed up quickly and walked around surveying the partygoers much of the time. I don't think you were too crazy about the cake on your hands (or maybe it was the 30 people watching you expectantly and blinding you with pictures ;) but you were a good sport and rubbed an adequate amount of chocolate frosting on your face for our amusement.

You also racked up on the presents, and since mommy still feels bad about not getting around to those thank-you notes in time, I hope everyone will forgive me and accept a blanket thank you SO MUCH for the heaps of adorable clothes, toys, bibs, frames and books they all brought. We are so grateful just to have those amazing people in our lives; gifts are above and beyond. [Basically, your friends and family rock].

Mommy had an insignificant number birthday (alright it was the big 3-0) at the end of August, for which daddy got us tickets to New York. It was the first time we'd left you for more than a day/night (wow can you believe we spent a year by your side? ;) and we were nervous as all get out. But the grandparents picked up our slack, had a blast keeping you occupied and helped you forget about mommy and daddy for a few days. We were busy in The City, but missed you terribly and kept our phones handy for quick photo-fixes of your cuteness. Somehow, we made it through. But boy were we happy to see you!!! Guess that separation anxiety works both ways...

--

My favorite thing about you now at just over one year is that you're all of a sudden incredibly eager to sit in my lap. I just find it so endearing that you actually make it a point to run over with toy or (wonder of wonders) book in hand, turn around and plop down for me to play with or read to you. The deliberateness is utterly charming. 

(laying in Bo's "lap")

Perhaps because of this lap-sitting impulse, your interest in books has skyrocketed (cue chorus of angels). You LOVE (and by love I mean are obsessed with) "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?" We play it on a loop, with you turning the pages faster than I can repeat the rhythmic refrain.

Mia recently revealed to me that you have also been practicing your fake smile (or "Chandler smile," as I like to call it). Apparently, it's a give and take thing. Mia does the fake smile and you flash one in return. I've only seen it in her presence, but it's wonderfully silly. You're such a goofball.

You and daddy have also started a tradition of waking up early on Saturday (and thus, blessedly giving mommy an extra hour or two of sleep) to visit granny, grandpa and pa pa. The weather has been beautiful as of late, so your preferred method of transportation to these playdates is the green plastic car mommy found at consignment.

You basically just get to run around, eat and soak up the attention on these visits, so I know you must thoroughly enjoy it. But I think your grands enjoy it just as much.  :)

Sadly, we had a run-in with your first ear infection over Labor Day weekend. But to get past a year without one is doing pretty dern good, so mommy won't complain too much. The worst part was seeing you all pitiful and in pain and not being able to help. Not surprisingly, you loved the bubble-gum-flavored amoxicillin.

Let's see, what else is going on in your world? You are:
 

• Downing food like a champ, though you still refuse milk that is not optimally heated. This is a problem. 

• Breaking my heart with the separation anxiety. When I take you to school and you literally scream as I tear myself away, I have to force-plaster the "reassuring smile" on my face. It does not help. 

• Enamored with your daddy. Apparently tickle-fights and chasing are your weaknesses.

• Becoming a philanthropist. Clearly you must think the dogs are starving and have no food to eat that does not come from the floor, because you've taken to tossing pieces overboard during mealtimes (both when we are and are not looking). The dogs love you. 

(Wait... have you been bribing Bo this whole time??!?!!)

• Not a fan of eating out. I realize this is probably because it necessitates you being strapped to a chair and not running around like an escaped monkey, but dude. It doesn't matter what toy, cup, utensil or person we try to bribe you with: you will tolerate only a set amount of time in the chair and no more. Apologies to any innocent patrons who've witnessed "the breaking point." It's not pretty.

• Conversely, loving the outdoors and anywhere you can explore without bounds. Since we don't yet have two baby gates, this includes the stairs and has required a hasty lesson in proper descent and stair dismount. 

• Well on your way to a full set of teeth. 4 on top, 4 on bottom, and molars starting to come in. I do wish they'd hurry up and get here already and stop hurting your poor little mouth, but you're so sweet and don't complain about the pain.

• Very interested in daddy's hair. Though you've become more tolerant of accessories in your own curly tresses, it's the banker coif you most enjoy petting and rubbing against your face these days (a la soft doggy fur?). Not sure why, since it's most certainly gelled in place and can't really have the silken touch you're so fond of, but oh well. It's cute. Plus, when daddy bends down to let you pat his head, you lean against him and then move your face from side to side for some Eskimo kisses. Precious. 

• Miss independent. You seize the toothbrush from my clutch when brushing your teeth, force me to relinquish the spoon mid-scoop and insist on carrying everything yourself (including the wondrously overstuffed "round dog," who is almost your height and four times as wide). I love it.

• Happy, smiley, full of life, and pretty much the perfect one year old!! You are so beautiful and such a blessing, it's almost hard to believe you're mine. It's like sometimes I can see God's light shining through you and beaming right out at me, and I'm amazed my heart doesn't just burst from the sheer magnitude of my love for you.

You were even such a trooper at your one-year photo shoot that you managed to smile through the pain of an earache and teething and let Lindsey capture some pretty shots. What a good girl you are.  :)

Wee Pee

Daddy decided that you were ready to start potty-training yesterday [precisely two days after your first birthday, if you're counting] while watching you do the squat and push in the throes of evicting a poopy. Despite the fact that we did actually purchase a toddlerpotty, it has not yet been set up (and I'm pretty sure that according to most, a normal potty-training age is more like two). 

So when daddy ceremoniously announced he was "taking you to the potty," marched you over to the guest bathroom, depantsed your tiny self and HELD YOU OVER THE PORCELAIN POT EXPECTING SOME ACTION, I doubled over in hysterics/horror/disbelief.

THEN, after waiting 2.5 seconds and declaring a failure, daddy thought it cute to let you fly out of the bathroom half-nakey (the bottom half, natch) and into the den. As he called for mommy to check out the show, I turned my head just in time to catch my little Action Ansley stop mid-run, assume the position... and pee a delicate five-second stream of tinkle on our freshly-cleaned carpet.

I handed the paper towels over to your darling daddy and said "you know this is totally going in my blog."

*Disclaimer: In the interest of fairness—according to Granny Mac's recollection, baby Jonathan was potty-trained at the age of 7 months. So I'm sorry if daddy has some unrealistic expectations for you munchkin. He was apparently a wee pee prodigy. Or it could've just been the M&Ms...

1-derful You!

So I've finally finished retroposting, and we now have entries beginning shortly after we found out we were having a baby (yay!). Most of the preggo pieces are not Ansley-directed anyway, but I wanted to go ahead and get them up so I could actually feel like we started in the right place. But since Ansley is pretty much the most entertaining and interesting part of our lives, it's still all about her [see below].

--

I cannot believe how quickly the past year has gone by and how much you've grown and conquered and what a mini-person you are! This time last year, mommy was putting the finishing touches on the nursery and swelling with pride (and fluids) at your imminent arrival. And now you're about to turn one; run-tottering toward me with arms outstretched and a huge toothy grin. Believe me, munchkin, I have never been more proud of anything in my life. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. (You and your daddy, of course ;)

Though it pains us to see (only because it happened so fast), you're walking around all "no big deal" now. I can barely catch you on camera.

"What? Pshhh, I came out walking." 

My favorite time is when you're getting sleepy and you stumble around looking intoxicated and losing your balance. You are constantly trying to pick things up and walk with them (even things that are supposed to roll and/or support you), which gets significantly more difficult when you're sleep-wasted. And for some reason, tiredness also makes you think you can lift items that are 3 times your size. Which you can't. But it's cute to watch you try.  ;)

We send you off to school sporting shoes every day now, since I think you forgot how to sit still. For some reason, you find it incredibly hilarious that this produces 'stinky feets.' Like, for real. When we catch a whiff and reel back in (semi-)mock disgust, you giggle like you totally did it on purpose. 

Your personality is starting to emerge in little pieces. You imitate and respond to us more often when we ask now, giving kisses and pointing out your parts (specifically head, nose, tongue; with varying accuracy).



Apparently, you entertain everyone at daycare with impromptu bouts of interpretive dance (quite possibly a contributing factor to the stinky feet syndrome). But mommy does love that you're now old enough to perform So-You-Think-You-Can-Dance-esque lifts and flips. We try them out in the playroom when daddy's not around to get any ideas... (just kidding daddy!)

You have recently begun to scream erratically, often when frustrated (like a high-pitched siren-style scary movie scream that we're hoping will die down once we learn to communicate a little more efficiently), and I think you're going to be a bit of a daredevil. You absolutely love to be surprised/mildly scared. We play hide and seek and "I'm gonna get you!" like they're going out of style. You get a big kick out of running away and then turning back to make sure you're being thoroughly chased. 

You're beginning to show interest in books, if only the continuous opening and closing of them. We still read to you.. well, let's be honest... at you. Sometimes you're just tired enough to let us finish a whole story. So clearly you won't be smart. But at least you're pretty.  ;)   Just kidding I'm sure you'll be smart too. And if you're not supersmart, you'll definitely be an athlete, as evidenced by your 'Action Ansley' running, climbing, dancing and tumbling skills. And intense practice of said skills.

Since you usually only let us read whilst you are otherwise occupied, mommy will occasionally just pick up a book and simulate storytime (in vain hopes that you'll suddenly take to it). Last week when I got to a passage about mischievous monkeys, I made the "oooo-ooo-oo-aah-aah" sound and you dropped down to all fours and began jamming out as though headbanging. Totally ignored the rest of the book, but you must really like those monkeys...

After a little coaxing and several unsuccessful attempts, you've even grown to enjoy the tree swing handydad hung for you last month. Though mommy is much more cautious and tends to remove you from a situation if you don't seem to like something, daddy's philosophy is "try it until she likes it." Surprisingly, this makes for a good balance. If we don't confuse the crud out of you.

You now randomly approach Bo and envelop him in sweet hugs, which is the most adorable thing ever. But Hannahbelle is beginning to catch your attention, too, and you find it comical to play the "I'm gonna get you" game with her. Except you like to be the chaser. Although Hannah is very good at evading capture, she pauses to let you think you have a chance and makes you laugh when she feverishly spins her wheels and takes off again. You also enjoy tempting one or both of the dogs with whatever puff, pretzel or cracker you have in your hand and then swiftly revoking it like "Oh here do you want some? Syke. This is mine, dogg."

Your favorite field trip to date is Emerald Pointe. Or as we like to call it "the giant bath tub you get to stand up and walk around in." You aren't so much into splashing, but you frolick and float as if you and water are BFFs. The first time we went, you rode the cyclone and almost instantaneously zonked out. As it was church youth day and there were no free chairs to be had, mommy and daddy took turns holding you up in the kiddie pool. I'm sure it was quite humorous to passersby to see a baby in a lifejacket all passed out and suspended in the water, but you float-slumbered for a good hour, powered up and were ready for round two of bath/playtime.

Though I'm sure you could care less what you're wearing, mommy likes to pretend you're her life-size doll and dress you up in at least two outfits per day. Since your current wardrobe rivals that of Mariah Carey, this is not hard—except that you hate the process of getting dressed. And forget putting a bow in your hair. If you spy or feel its presence, it must die (or be yanked out at once). Apparently ribbons are generally offensive, since you also try to pull them from other peoples' hair.

(just before you caught wind of that evil hairbow...)

You're still teething like crazy, and were actually out of school right after you turned 11 months for the fever that accompanied the teething. Which is no small wonder because you were getting four new teeth at the same time. You have since popped two more, for a total of eight (four top and four bottom). Since you absolutely love the taste of Tylenol, we survived. Barely.

In other happenings:

Another one of your future crushes, Cooper Samuel Morrison, was born on July 13th!

Isn't he just so precious you want to snuggle him for hours? Well too bad; you probably won't be allowed to date him either. (Just kidding). Maybe his G.I. Joes and your Barbies can ask your dads if it's ok and then date.  ;)   

Ah who knows if or which any of you munchkins will end up together. But as Aunt Jaclyn pointed out, you and Jake may be destined to become "future power couple Jakesley."

And if you don't, Jake will always protect you.
Just like he does his big sister:

(by screaming profusely at the offending party)