I lay on my back in the grass on Aunt Julie's front lawn, satisfactorily tired. You roamed the yard, stretching your legs after being horribly trapped in your stroller while we exercised. I tried to keep one eye on you while still trying to give some enthusiasm to my crunches. I called you towards me and away from the street that was beckoning. You lurched towards me in that way you do when you are moving faster than your body can catch up. You collapse on my chest, laughing. I lift you straight up in the air and you giggle. I have no doubt that when I am 85, sitting in a retirement pod, these are going to be what I am recounting as the best moments of my life.
Counts to 17. Is a picky eater, but cooperative enough to try a bite of anything. Is pottytrained, but can't quite button his own pants. is Generally cooperative and helpful. Still needs a nap in the afternoon. Is almost too big to carry around. Loves to help in the kitchen. Sleeps with a rotating cast of stuffed animals. Has a hard time settling down to sleep at bedtime. Loves being read to. Enjoys trucks, dinosaurs, race cars and Dora. Looked me in the face in the middle of the tantrum and asked me to help him. I asked him with what and he asked me to help him pull it together. When I asked him how I could help, he said, "do the breathing thing". So I looked him in the face and we took 10 deep breaths together so he could calm down. Apparently telling him to take deep breaths has internalized at some point. Loves hiding under a blanket while we pretend to look for him. Loves to wrestle and tickle with Daddy. Loves fruit and bread and cheese. Enjoys showers. loves d...
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