You're TWENTY MONTHS old today, Big. I think that that is officially too many months to be saying that you are "X months" when people ask, so today I told someone that you were "almost two." The gal told me that her kid was 22 months and that she knew someone who celebrated their 1000th day.
Once when BioMom took Seven (who was then "almost two") to Florida via plane, someone asked how old she was as she had a vocabulary of an english grad student. BioMom responded by saying "she's one!"
If I had to be honest to these Park-Moms, I'd have to say that you are twenty (months)-going-on-four (years). Ever since I took you too one of those little tester-classes at The Little Gym, you think you can jump or swing from anything.
You've taken to treating me as your own personal chariot, rushing around while we're walking, so that we are face-to-face, holding up your arms, grunting until I pick you up, then pointing and swinging your body toward where you would like to go, presumably in an effort to save energy or to move more expiditiously.
I'm not a fan as you're quickly approaching 35 lbs.
Your language continues to grow, however languidly. You clearly get everything, but you just keep most of it yourself. Although I did hear a clear "hot!" out of you the other day as you hopped across the sweltering deck toward the sprinkler.
The pictures posted here show more summer fun. The other night at National Night Out you really wanted to get dunked in the dunking machine, but settled for trying to get your sister; kickball with Cousin and kids, and your new tracktor from the Family-with-Four-Kids.
It feels like the adventure with you is just beginning.
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