This one feels special. This one is a delineation... It marks a new size in clothes (although you're well past the size), it brings you into the realm of no more months but years in age. It makes you a toddler. And? You are definitely acting your age!
Your vocabulary BLOWS OUR MINDS DAILY. There is no way to overstate how many times a day your dad and I look at each other quizically. "Did YOU know she knew that word??!". I chronicled 52 in an earlier post. Now? I think you're closer to 75 words and sounds. More? You have started on adjectives. You know soft now... When we ask if your teddy is soft you gently pet its head. Last night we introduced you to pickles. More on that in a bit... but you were NOT a fan. So? Dad and I jumped and sang about how good pickles were! And within a few repetitions you were saying pickle!! Were you eating it? Hells no... but you said it.
You know clock (but don't pronounce the "L"), fork (which comes out as "fook"), sit (pronounced with an "sh"). THOSE are fun. But you can name The Count and Zoe and Bert and Bird and sort of Ernie from Sesame Street. You know shirt and hat and foot and hand and now have eye, ear, nose and mouth (mouff) down. You know grape (you say "grate") and every berry or cherry or even nub on your toothbrush is "GRATE!". Even this morning at daycare, I was in the other room and overheard the staff marvelling at your vocabulary.
And you love to communicate with us - you love that you can get your point across. And this has lead to MUCH hilarity. A new favorite game between us is the sneezing game. The game? We sneeze. At each other. Hmm... doesn't SOUND like much fun but there is a call and answer part (I say "ah" you say "CHOOO"), there is the mimicing part (I say "ah ah aaaaaah CHOOOOO" and you say it back). Or you call and I answer. And then sometimes I mix up up and say "aaaaah BOINK" which makes you giggle like mad.
Yesterday we went to the doctor, for your check up. And? You're awesome. You're meeting milestones. You're about 32" tall (70th percentile) and about 27 lbs (90the percentile). I'll get the confirmed numbers for you on Thursday (for your needle-poke appointment). But the doctor has no concerns, except maybe for you to drink more milk. But we also get much yogurt and cheese and other dairy goodness in you.
Food. Food! Food... from the start you have been a good eater. You eat what's in front of you and a good amount. I must admit to feeling a little smug in how awesome you were with the eating. And now? Not so much. You know what you want, and you're perfectly ok to pass on whatever is in front of you if you aren't in the mood for it. And new things? Like pickles? Nope. You gently place it on your tongue and quickly pull it off. At least you're still attempting to eat the food and not just looking at it and deciding it isn't good. The only thing you consistently eat right now is fruit. You demand to have the fridge opened, then you (by yourself) open the fruit drawer and grab "APPO!" or "ORNG!". Orange may be an orange or lemon, which you proceed to bite a HUGE chunk out of. And then I step in and peel it for you. I'll give you a few pieces in a bowl and then you wander off. I'll finish cutting the orange and have more ready just as you return and ask "MOAR ORNG!". Ask? Demand? Well, whatever it is, it is more orange. With your apple (or peach or nectarine or plum) you just grab it and go. And like a big girl you eat away. After a few minutes your face and hands (and neck and shirt and arms) are covered in juices but you're so proud to announce "ALL DOH!" and hand back a 3/4 nibbled fruit... You're getting pretty awesome with the spoon. It's a messy process, but you are so proud when you get it done. And we're so rpoud of you. Always.
Your independence is rearing its awesome (yet sometimes a little frustrating) head. I am so proud that you want to brush your teeth yourself! I am also completely stymied on how *I* can get in there and brush your teeth properly, before you go at it. I was combing your hair the other day and you inisited "ME!" as you grabbed the comb and began trying to comb your own hair. And this will be the next 20 or so years... me setting boundaries and you pushing them, letting me know when you're ready to take the next step. And hopefully I can let you go, with grace, my Maddy. I hope I can be there, also, to catch you if you stumble. Hold your hand until you're ready to set off again.
Happy year and a half, my girl.
Love you always and forever,