It’s very possible you are the cutest thing ever to have existed.
There’s nothing about your face that I don’t want to eat.
There’s nothing about your laugh that I don’t want to make you keep laughing.
In the last month, you’ve really gotten involved with the household chores. Or, as a parent would call them, ways you go around and mess up the house so I have more to do. But I appreciate the sentiment.
You are incredibly curious. You’ve flown internationally twice now. You’ve been on countless day trips. You take it all in. Every little thing. It’s obvious in the way you look at the world.
You’re moving along so fast… You watch what’s going on with your brother and sister and you want to join. You see a button, you have to smash it. You see a bathtub, you have to hang out next to it until everyone has left the bathroom. You see the stairs, climb them, and I have to breathe really quietly and step really lightly to catch you from falling down them from laughing too hard.
You stood up by yourself for a couple seconds, just to try it out. You get your kicks from just about anything. For example, punching me in the eye. Repeatedly.
On that note, you are a relentless cosleeper.
It’s clear you take more risks than your siblings ever did. You refuse to miss out on the fun, crawling right up to the pile of Lego and freaking out your brother (“She’s going to eat it!”) or attempting to brush your sister’s hair with your nails (“She hurt me!”)
Hey, I warned them you’d want to get involved sooner or later.
And they take you on, too.
But my favorite thing from the last month was that you’ve sharpened your first word. It started out ever so softly, so much so I didn’t realize it. But now I do.