You are a walking, talking, eating-everything-in-sight little monster.
You have fearlessly practiced walking since nailing your official first steps. That effort paid off as you transitioned to walking as your default transportation mode over the past week. You take a wide stance and shriek with delight when your Mom mimics your movements.
You almost immediately wanted to start playing soccer. I use the ball of my feet to move the ball around the house, and you curiously took to that instead of outright kicking. The results are some brilliant-looking footwork combined with hard falls when you try a step-over move over a full-size ball that your inseam can’t clear.
The talking is starting to improve and you’re pronouncing more two-syllable words with caveman oration. You can say apple, balloon, walk, up, cracker, bye, Liza, Mama, Dada, wawa (water), and Greta (really just “grr” when you see the dog).
You don’t say but most often scream “baba!” for the bottle you demand before and after a nap or night’s sleep and occasionally the hours in between. Because of your dairy allergies these are rather expensive almond and oat milk bottles. But hey, they’re cheaper than the “adult bottles” people order at Starbucks.
You are a very good eater and probably have the same calorie intake I do. You demonstrate some fine motor skills using a fork or spoon to eat your food. It’s funny to watch you eat your morning Cheerios now with a spoon. You look like a toddler trying to impersonate an adult, which I guess is what growing up looks like.
While in many ways you are a raucous, wild child trying to find your way to the water table or nearest patch of dirt – often in that order to get muddied – you also find a balance and can be incredibly sweet and cuddly, which we love. Especially in the morning, you are content staying in your sleep-sack for a while on the couch with us and burrowing your head into the nearest neck. You don’t stay there long, popping up your bundle of blonde hair to listen to the airplane that flew by or reacting to Greta’s bark. But for that moment, life is good and you’re still our baby.
Love, Dad