Today you’re one and a quarter, big girl. Your dad has the day off, so we spiced up the usual morning walk with a trip through the gardens.
You’re a champion walker by now, sometimes almost running. Still a bit wobbly on uneven ground, but you’re offended by the offer of a steadying hand. You’re all about holding hands when you want us to follow you somewhere, but not if we’re, you know, trying to help.
You’ve developed the very bad habit of going totally berserk in your high chair once you’re full. Literally, in the blink of an eye, you go from calmly and happily eating to whipping food in all directions. The windows often have little slug trails of leftovers dripping down them. You know it’s bad, I know you do, but you just think it’s so hilarious, every time you look at us like you expect us to be laughing as hard as you are.
You are really starting to understand how things work. Doorknobs, toys, chairs, buttons. You can climb up onto and rock your rocking horse all by yourself. It’s getting less scary to see you head for stairs; if you get up a few before we get there, no big deal.
You are fantastic about sharing. I’m sure that will diminish at some point, but for now, about 90% of the time if we ask, “Share?” you happily hand over whatever you’re playing with. The other night Drew was trying to get a game of catch going, and you weren’t getting it when he asked you to bring the ball to him. Finally he asked, “Share?” and it was like a lightbulb went on; you had the biggest grin, understanding what he wanted. You went running for the ball and brought it back to him.
You love water so much. Any time you hear the shower turn on, you book it for the stairs, run to the bathroom, whip the curtain back, and reach longingly for whichever of us is in there. Puddles are the ultimate temptation, which makes it very difficult to go for walks after it’s rained. The sink, bubblers, our neighbor’s sprinkler system: these things all bring out your little “I want” noise.
You give wonderful little kisses, but only when you’re in the mood. Which you weren’t when your dad took these photos.
Sweet little peanut.