The girl is a talker.
My sweet little baby has turned 18 months old, and it’s a lot of fun. She’s sweet, smart and able to verbalize most things that she wants. It’s amazing to hear her pick up new words and expressions each day.
She watches what we say and do, and she says and does those same things. In her own way. With her own little attitude. She’s confident. Confident in our love for her. Confident that we will listen to her. She has definite opinions of how things should be and what she wants to do. Which sometimes does not jibe with how we think things should be, and what we want to do.
For example? We spent a week on Cape Cod on vacation last week. We rented a cottage across the street from the ocean, and spent most days walking back and forth to the beach. Eliza loved spending time at the beach, and took her role of carrying her shovel and bucket very seriously. One afternoon she had enough of the beach, and told us that she was “Done with Beach!” And then she picked up her shovel and bucket and started walking towards the dunes to the path that led back to the cottage. She never once looked back to see if we would follow her.
Of course, we did follow her, which she knew we would. All the while chuckling at her attitude and grinning with pride that she had said her first three word sentence.
(Edited to add her 18 month stats from her doctor’s appointment: Eliza weighs 23 lbs, 10oz (40th percentile) and she was measured at 33.5 inches (90th percentile) but both the doctor and I think that is inaccurate because E was squirming and crying during the entire appointment so it was hard to get an accurate reading of her length.)