You are 18 months old. 18 long yet short months of you in my arms. And you have yet to get any real hair!
You are battling another illness. In my arms all night, all day. Fussy and grumpy. Fevered and stuffed up. It is hard for you to nurse, and that makes you mad.
You have your front teeth and your molars. And you use them for all sorts of grand things, like biting my legs! Most of the time you are careful when nursing, but once in a while I feel teeth.
Just like your oldest sister, you are a danger girl. You've figured out our dog door, climbing in and out whenever you please. You can climb onto the kitchen counter,and get fruit for yourself whenever you please. You are quite independent.
In the last few weeks you've started saying many things. And you love to sing. You love music and dancing. We were watching White Christmas and you started dancing along during one of the dance scenes.