(He does actually smile...a lot...and never for the camera.)
Weight: 27 lbs 13 oz (75th %ile--one year ago, he was in the 5th!)
Height: 33 in (75th %ile)
HC: 19 in (50th %ile)
Dear Munchkin (or can I call you, "Sa-SEE?),
I wish I could adequately describe to our readers how AWESOME you are. You have reached this remarkable age where you play so well independently, yet I find myself wanting to play with you, instead. Watching you acquire language is like being in a room filled with spontaneously igniting lightbulbs, especially since you've become such a copycat. You are tender and quick to warm to "strangers" (our friends), as they easily steal your heart by showing interest in your toys or making silly faces.
One of your favorite language-related games is pointing to pictures in your books over and over, with the insistence that we repeat the names of the objects: Elmo, The Count, Ernie, book, cupcake, balloon. And it cracks us up when The Count in your Sesame Street book finishes...er...counting, and you tag on his signature, "Ah, ah ah," at the end of the phrase. You are a lover of books: picture books, board books, even wordy Dr. Seuss books will keep you entertained. Did I mention that most of your book reading is independent? You are content to sit in your room and "read" while I shower or fold laundry in the next room. I often sneak in to find you showing pictures to your stuffed friends (lately the monkey and the blue/white doggie), and gathering them up into your lap for story time.
You've now been to your first official swimming "lesson" (or as Dada called it, "Swimming Suggestions"), where the "instructors" ("14 year old members of the local swim team") deemed you "advanced for your age." I guess most 18 month olds aren't too geeked about shoving their faces in the water to blow bubbles. Too bad for them!
You want to be best friends with Oliver, who doesn't always share your sentiments. But we love watching you grab his "baby" and play tug of war, and try to let him outside on the leash, shouting ,"Come on!" One of my favorite mornings recently was when you found Ollie's leash on the floor, and proceeded to dramatize a ten minute scene in which you attach the leash to your invisible dog and walk him around the living room, saying...well, who knows? I couldn't find my copy of Toddler to English that day.
You are obsessed with basketballs, footballs, baseballs ("BEE-baws"), or any other object that will fit through the toddler-sized basketball hoop in our basement. 85% of your Gymboree time is spent trying to collect more than one ball in your arms at a time, and dumping them in the hoop. And you tote around the strangest security objects on our outings: a block from your set (it must be the short, cylindrical one), a can of Playdoh, the pretend bottle of milk, Mama's lip stuff, the bottle of--ahem--baby powder (oh, how I live in fear of the day you learn to open these things!!!).
Even though you are the anti-cuddler, you share sweet times with me. When you were sick but woke up extra early, you snuggled into our bed and watched an entire episode of Sesame Street (which is how I knew you really weren't feeling well!), your head almost resting on my shoulder. You are the most physically attached to your Dada, rarely letting him leave your side on the weekends. You cry when he leaves the house to walk Oliver, and you shriek with delight upon his return. Ironically, given your general aversion to cuddling, you are tender and sweet toward strangers. For example, a little boy (whom you met just that day) fell down during Gymboree, so you went straight over to hug him and blow him a kiss. [insert melting heart, here]
You are as solid as a rock, little man. It's hard to remember
the time we worried about your lack of weight gain. You eat like a horse, though you stick with the same thirteen foods: chicken nuggets, mini corn dogs, grapes, bananas, crackers, mac and cheese, yogurt, pasta, blueberries, cereal, waffles, bagels, and cantaloupe (note the lack of ONE. SINGLE. VEGETABLE on that list--you stinker). I can't wait to see what Dr. B has to say about your charts.
You are a light in my life, sweet boy. I wish I could take you around and show you off to every person I've ever met--but that would be weird. :o)
I love you,
Mama
