sixteen months

You, at Santa Monica Beach, last Wednesday.

It really, really feels like we just did this, that 15 months was just a day or two ago. I credit our big adventure to the Pacific Northwest (which went both well and not well at times. Frankly, it went fine. You had two or three little meltdowns, which is just so unlike you, that they threw me into thinking that the world was ending. It wasn't. You were just way tired and too too sickmof being in the car. I get that way, too). Anyway, time seems to fly when you're not sleeping in your own bed.

We had a super fun visit with your Auntie Amy and Dale. We explored Dayton, WA (I think you know every inch of the courthouse lawn), and Walla Walla and Pendleton, OR. You whined through many an antique store and pointed out EVERY SINGLE DOG we saw. Ever. You loved Amy's mom's backyard, and the park in Walla Walla, but were not so crazy about the pool in Dayton. Dale taught you how to "gobble" at the wild turkeys that roam through town (not joking). You gobble at least once a day now.

I got to spend a lot of time with Amy doing not much, which is what Amy and I are good at doing. Chatting while drinking coffee. It's like art threat we do it.


Then we hauled halfway across the state to Troutdale for your Auntie No-No's wedding. If Amy and I can make drinking coffee into art, then Nicole and Dylan do the same for getting married. No one gets married better. Period. A summer camp, on the river? With a tipi photo booth and lawn sports? Heaven.

You marched into that river like a native Oregonian, with a courage unmatched by anyone on the shore. Until you were as deep as your belly button, at which point you paused long enough to realize how cold the water was, and started shaking your head no.

Other things:
You have all of a sudden recognized trucks, and think they are the awesomest. You grunt out "ruh!" every time you see a truck, a big car, a bus, or best of all, my friend Ian in his wheelchair.
You also love your toy cars and trucks, which had previously been ignored.
You are so amazingly outgoing. Far more than your dad or I am. When you see someone you know, especially if they are a little, like you, you march toward them waving your hand, or kick your ball their way, or scream.
You sleep like a starfish these days. Super cute, unless you're sharing a twin sized bunk bed.

You are the best. And we love you to pieces.
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