Tuesday, March 04, 2014
Quinner :: 18 months
You are a little boy.
There isn't one single smidge of baby left in you. It's awesome and sad at the same time. My baby is my baby by birth order, but pretty much nothing more
You run and climb. You dance. You spin in a circle, walk backwards, and can go down stairs with just a little bit of help. And, you climb on everything, sometimes getting the stool out of the bathroom and moving it to where you need to reach. It drives me crazy.
You have added some words to your vocabulary in the last couple of weeks: Willie (just a few days before he left); owie; no; please; thank you; all done; hi; up; ELMO (Melmo) and probably a few more but I cannot remember. You figured out how to fold your arms for prayers and during dinner keep up all rolling in our seats. We're have a daily fight about whether or not you sit in your high chair or sit in a booster at the big table. If mom wins, it's the high chair. If you get to dad first, before dinner, it's the table.
You love hi-chew candies, star wars fruit snacks and apple sauce that you can squeeze out of a tube. You went to nursery with dad at church last week for an hour and did okay. You mimic EVERYTHING your brothers do, good or bad, and you roll your eyes.
When it's time to change your diaper, you walk up to me, hit your diaper and grunt, and then go and lay down on the rug, usually in the dining room and yell, "mom!" until I come with a diaper in hand.
There are a couple of new tricks this month, too, one of which your dad taught you. Instead of giving people a "high five" you give them a "pointer finger one" (like at the end of E.T.) And, you aren't happy just "one-ing" one person, but you must make the rounds through an entire room of people until you get back to where you started.
Your obsession with Elmo is growing pretty rapidly and almost every day we spend about 20 minutes watching your favorite sesame street videos on you tube. During that time, you are frozen like a statue watching, the only part of your body to move is your mouth - to shout "Melmo!" every time you see your fuzzy little red friend.
In the last month you flew on an airplane and said goodbye, for two years, to your beloved Uncle Willie. Both were quite the experience, but the farewell took a lot less emotion out of you than flying on a plane. We went to Arizona for Grandma Bea's 90th birthday party, which mom and dad were in charge of. You handle the trip like a champ, only fell out of the hotel bed once, and for not having a single real nap in 6 whole days, did amazingly well at being happy and nice and awesome.
We spent as much time on our trip as we could trying to get you to say "Elliott, Wyatt, and Willie" really well. It worked. About three days before Willie left, all you wanted to say was, "WeeEee!" And now that he's been gone a whole 7 days (only 721 to go) all you do is wander around the house, look at pictures, and as we pull into Grandma's driveway for Sunday dinner is shout Wille and then wonder why he doesn't come running. It almost brings me to tears every single day. Okay, not almost, it is bringing me to tears every day, but man alive you love that uncle, don't you!
You are such a special little kid. I love your brothers tremendously, but right now, at this age, you hold a very special place in my heart. I'm loving you right now as much as I can, because I know that pretty soon, you'll really figure out how to run and wrestle and be wild and crazy like those big brothers of yours. I know it's coming, but I'm not quite ready for three bulls in my china shop so stay my sweet little buddy for a little bit longer please.
My heart needs it!