Eighteen months and going strong

Hi Sweet Girl,

You are officially eighteen months or one year and a half old. As always, I have a hard time you've been hanging out with me for that long.

When I want to know if you're hungry, I say "Ava eat?" and you say "Eeet!"

You get mad a little easier than you used to, especially if I take something from you, like your toothbrush, even if you are all done brushing your teeth. You aren't so bad at brushing them, I must say, which is quite impressive at 18 months. You really hate it when I brush them, so we gave up and handed you the brush. The first few days you chewed more than brushed, but after watching us brush every day, twice a day, you're figuring it out.

You win my heart over every time you hand me a book, then turn around and sit in the middle of my crossed legs.

You pick up a new word each day, sometimes a couple a day. The new word du jour was blueberry, which sounded like boo-bear. The other words we've noticed are:
You are speaking new words like crazy. Every moment you pick up something new that we say. Here are the words we've noticed so far:
tortilla (tohr-TEEEEE-yah)
unagi (oooo-nah-gee)
hola (oh-la)
mommy (mah-MEE)
daddy (dah-DEE)
nana (nah-nah)
papa (papa, but in a whisper)
bear (bay-er)
dog (dah)
duck (duh)
eat (eeeet)

Despite all of my efforts to teach you sign language, the only sign I notice is "all done" which is an action made with both hands like twisting open a door knob. When I say "more" and make the sign, you pick up your dish and wave it at me, or point. I get it, more.

You can identify your nose, my nose, your head, cheek, feet, and tummy. Someday when I ask "where's Ava's chicken?" you'll giggle and point at your ribs because you know that's where you're going to be tickled.

Tonight you're not feeling so well. You've got a fever and even threw up for the first time in forever. As I say when we're sick, you get to eat what you want, and what you wanted was a banana. And then boo-bears.

You are becoming a bit less mommy dependent, especially at My Gym. This week when you saw where we were, you ran off, leaving me to eat your smoke. Okay, maybe you didn't run, but you sure didn't spend much time looking for me. You did spend time watching Jack swing on the uneven bars and put your hands up on the bar to try his amazing stunt. You didn't quite get that he was hanging by his hands and that allowed him to take his feet off the ground, but you gave it your best shot by standing on your toes.

I'm a Mom. I don't have a plaque or a sign that says so, but with as much as I talk about you, I don't need one; everyone already knows.

What else does everyone know? That you are a beautiful, easy, wonderful little girl, and everyone loves you.

Especially me.