You are sixteen months old, and the time is flying. You got a new haircut this week that pushed you firmly over the line from looking like a baby to looking like a little boy. You talk up a storm, having recently added Mia (in place of eye-ah), Ariel (you love princesses, poor boy), hat, Nana, and so many others. You are even managing a few sentences, so far all along the lines of "Hi, Dada."
You love to play ball, read books, climb anything you can manage, play outside, throw toys in to the pool (but prefer to not get into the pool yourself), throw your food onto the floor or my plate or my head, do anything Mia does, and play with Play Dough. At least for a few minutes, before you decide you might like to eat it instead.
You still like to eat, but like to play even more, so lately I have to give you a couple of toys at the table and cram food into your mouth while you are distracted if I want to get more than a few bites into you. You still eat almost anything though. We've also reached a workable compromise on sleep. You fall asleep in your crib every night as long as Dada or Mama are sitting in the chair in your room. We usually just camp out with a book and a book light until you fall asleep. After that, you sometimes need a few minutes of back patting around midnight, but usually stay in your crib until 4 or 5. It isn't perfect, but it works for us and I'll take it.
Mia was at camp last week, and one day I took you to a local farm to see the animals. You loved running back and forth between the goats and the pigs and then fell madly in love with the rooster. You loved him enough to add "rooster" to your vocabulary. But even more than the animals, you seemed to love being in charge. While you are blissfully happy to follow your sister around doing whatever she does, you were awed by the ability to go where you wanted to go instead of being constantly cajoled to keep up with someone else's agenda.
It is a little hard this month to give you a good report, since there haven't been any big new milestones, everything is just a little more. You are that much closer to actual running, you are able to carry on longer and longer conversations, you can find bigger trouble to cause and scarier objects to climb.
One of my favorite things in how you wake up in the morning - you are suddenly just awake and happy and excited and ready to go. You give me a quick "hi" and then drop out of bed and sprint down the hall in seach of a nightlight to commandeer or a ponytail to yank. It forces your much slower rising mother to sprint out of bed every day and catch you before whatever new menace you've set your heart on. I love the energy, but more I love the wild giggle as you run away and the grin and hug I always get when I catch you.
You're a marvel, my sweet boy.