19 months

December 15th, 2005

You’ve moved on. You think you’re big. You don’t like tops on your sippy-cups. You insist on walking up and down the stairs. You want to sit on the highest stools, with no backs, that we have. You want to work on the laptop, on top of the highest stools that we have. You are always in the fray. You love playing chase, eating the tops off markers, falling down, being read to. You squeal with delight when your big brother comes home from school. You’re words are coming fast and furious like bees running from their hive. You, my baby boy, are becoming so big.

I love you!


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