Saturday, December 22, 2007

Month 18 Archives

Dear Henry,

Yesterday you turned 18 months old. That's like, a real age. People ask, "How old is he?" I say, "Oh, he's a year and a half." What? Its like saying, "Oh, he's 9. Oh, he's 38." I just need a sec to get used to it. And you're a big boy. Yesterday someone couldn't believe you were just a year and a half. They said you looked like Brian Urlacher. I'd take it as a compliment...maybe even foreshadowing.

I read somewhere that when a baby is 18 months old, they know, on average, 12 words. And when they turn 2, they know 12,000 words. So we are ready to hear all you have to say. I mean you talk constantly, and sing, but I can't understand most of it yet. Since winter is here you've added boots, gloves, hat, and coat to your vocabulary. My favorite addition of late is when you sing the E-I-E-I-O part of Old McDonald right on cue. And after six months of sleeping with your Bob the Builder doll, you require it, you care about, and you ask for it. "Bob?" Along with your blanket, which so far remains nameless.

Its Christmas now as I'm writing this, and we're in Dallas with G&GM. You've been loving playing with their little dog, Sugar, and so far she seems not to mind you. The other night we went driving around the neighborhood looking at Christmas lights and you about flew our of your car seat you got so excited. You definitely have the Christmas spirit little one. As long as Santa says the required 20 feet away, like the restraining order says, you're a little beaming light of all that is good.

Merry Christmas, and a slathering of, Mama

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