18 Months

Dear JEB,

Happy 1.5 year birthday!

This is a couple days late so you'll just have to forgive me. We were at Macy & G-Diddy's during my usual posting time, and it was so much fun that I didn't have time to stop and blog. Of course you woke up with a cold on the very day we were leaving and then you coughed all night every night we were there, but otherwise, things were splendid. You got to ride trains and tractors, practice your rocking horse skill on a tall horse with SPRINGS, and tell everyone how much you love your G-Diddy. I would say, "Do you love Mama?" You'd shake your head and point to G-Diddy. "Do you love Macy?" You'd shake your head and point to G-Diddy. He is a good guy, but COME ON ... at least give a shout out to the LADIES once in a while!

You rode $13 worth on the aforementioned train, which was in a mall. A trip to the mall was our attempt to keep you out of the mud puddles. I mean, we of course let you splash in a few select (read: shallow and clear), but mama can only handle so many cleanup sessions. Here you are as the conductor:

And as passenger:

I love how you're kicked back with your arm up. You squealed and waved and I think G-Diddy would've spent his entire retirement savings just to watch you go around and around. And if he hadn't then I would've. It was quite a sight to behold. I think you and I will have a fabulous time riding roller coasters together in the near future.

You also should forgive me for posting that whiny picture of you above, but it is so incredibly indicative of our daily routine that I had to post it here on your birthday. Plus, your birthday this month happened to be one day before St. Patrick's day, and voila! A green shirt.

Yes, whining and mood swings (about putting on socks) and completely prostrate tantrums at Wal-Mart (due to the nearness of bicycles) are all very YOU these days. (Aside: We prefer Target to Wal-Mart because of their better record on social and environmental responsibility, but it just so happens that there's no Target where Macy lives, so we had to settle for Wally World.) Once you got over your parking lot incident you were a perfect angel sitting up in that cart with your dollar ninety-seven truck ... driving it all over my arms and up my chest and head. I love it when you do that.

Trucks, tractors, bulldozers, jeeps, steamrollers, excavators, cranes, lawnmowers, etc. are priority #1 for you these days. They all illicit massive amounts of drool and a "vroooooomm."

We play this game called "Denial" where I ask you any number of questions such as, "Do you need a clean diaper?" "Do you need a nap?" "Do you wanna give mama a kiss?" all of which you respond to with a VERY adamant shake of the head. And a smirk, like this:

Lately I've been calling you Bo-Bo the Monkey Boy because of your obsession with the word "bo-bo" and because of your climbing antics. You have also proven yourself as a chicken herder, but climbing seems to be the newest skill to master. Sometimes I'll say, "Bo-Bo" and you'll say, "Bah-Bah" and we'll go back and forth cracking ourselves up about how funny it is when you say, "Bo-Bo" a lot or "POO-POO" or any other words/phrases with alliterative bilabial stops. Sometimes you'll come and climb on my back and say, "Bo-Bo!" in an effort to get me to crawl around on my hands and knees while you sit on my back and pat me. I love it when you do that too.

I still spend ridiculous amounts of time uploading, cropping, rotating, and resizing your pictures. This is in addition to my two not-so-part-time jobs. I can't help it. It's just too much fun to look at you and think about how great it is that you giggle and grow teeth and say "bo-bo."

Recently I have been holding you in my lap during playtime and singing to you ... you have such clear preferences about songs. The favorite used to be "Old MacDonald," but now we have moved on to anything by Laurie Berkner. I can even get you to do the hand gestures for "Rum-Sum-Sum"! You are getting better and better at sign language ... which is good given your reticence to be verbal (other than squealing and whining). When people ask me if you're talking, I always say, with a sigh, "No, not yet, to my dismay." And they always reply, "Be careful what you wish for." But it's certainly not that I feel you're delayed or anything like that ... I just want you to have a better way to communicate with us.

Like the day that you were, apparently, dying of thirst and I couldn't figure out for the life of me what was wrong so I just turned you loose outside and followed you around for a while. After about five minutes you calmed down and I looked at you and very seriously said, "Goosey, you are going to have to communicate with me better. I want to help you, but I can't interpret whining." You looked me straight in the eye, pointed to my coffee cup, and said, "Ahhhhhh."

You're quite the character. We have no idea where you got any of it, but we love it all. Happy 18 months!

Love,

Mama