I suppose I’ve come to terms with the fact that my baby is a year old. She’s definitely not slowing down at all, and is more of a toddler than a baby now, anyway. If I was to describe Raelin in one word, it would be MENACE. She is cute and smart and funny and all that fun baby stuff, but the girl is TROUBLE.
If something can be climbed, she will climb it. If it can’t be climbed, she will push something over to it in order to make it climbable. If something fits in her mouth, she will eat it, edible or not. I swear she has a sixth sense about when a door is left open that we usually keep closed, and she’s in there before I even notice she’s gone. I’m constantly chasing her away from the cats’ water dish, and out of the laundry room, out of the fireplace, and out of the garbage can (that she figured out how to open).
We are still nursing. I wasn’t planning on cutting her off any time soon, because we had been down to just nursing at night. But ever since she got a fever and a nasty cold a week ago, she’s been wanting to nurse all the time (usually letting me know by sticking her hand directly down my cleavage or yanking my shirt down in front of strangers). I know it’s good for her to get antibodies and such, so I’m going with it. For now.
She had a great first birthday party with family, and thoroughly enjoyed herself. She got really excited about her presents, which I didn’t expect from a one year old. She also completely devoured her little smash cake in a glorious explosion of crumbs and frosting.
Favorites: pushing a little doll stroller all over the house, looking at the family photos on the wall, carrying bags and purses, climbing on top of tables, opening and closing doors, pretending to talk on phones, her kiddie gym class, baths, snuggling with Daddy, laundry baskets, stealing juice from her sister, and babies. She says hi to practically everybody, so is not particularly put off by strangers. She can also say mama, baba usually means baby, and dada means just about everything else.