Splish splash

One of the things Laurel figured out how to do several months ago is to push one of our kitchen chairs over to the sink. She would beg us to turn on the faucet so she could play in the water with the various spoons/cups/bowls/whatever would hold water. Eventually, Devin taught her how to turn on the faucet herself — keeping it to just a trickle.

She would spend all day, every day, playing in running water if she could. At my dad’s this weekend she easily spent more than an hour playing in (and drinking out of, as you can see above) his backyard fountain. He also taught her how to use the sprayer on his garden hose — which she used to water plants, the forest floor, and her shirt and pants.

Here’s a few seconds of her drinking from the faucet at home. In it, I ask, “What did you do?” I thought she would say something like, “Drank the water.” Instead, she said, “Take a video now.”

– Beth

Nudie beauty

We’re in kind of a nudist phase, lately. Where by “we” I mean Laurel, except insomuch as there’s an extra amount of work involved for whoever’s looking after her while she’s running around the house with nothing on.

Most mornings begin with a diaper change. As soon as I reach for the new clean, diaper, she’ll say “Be naked!” There are all sorts of things she wants to do naked: eat meals, nurse, go outside. (This morning she engaged in one of her favorite hobbies, standing on our back stoop with a top and no bottoms, hollering and playing with leaves.) Often, there are tears when it’s time to put the diaper back on.

Kind of by accident, the nudity phase has led to some experiences using her potty. It’s by no means consistent, but if she spends enough time without clothes on, eventually she gets to a point where she needs to pee or poop. You can tell it’s happening because she gets a little agitated and maybe holds her crotch. This has ultimately led to several instances of eliminating on the potty. She’ll have several days of using it daily, then go several days refusing to go near it. (Or, like today, will sit on it, but not pee until she’s put back into a diaper.)

What this means, among other things, is that she’s learning to control her bodily functions, which is great. She’s gone several hours without peeing, holding it in well, when she wants to. For a long time, using the potty scared her — probably because it was so unfamiliar. She’s still uneasy with it sometimes. And, often, she likes using it best when she’s by herself. I’ve left the room more than once only to come back and find her peeing in it. Another time, she asked Devin and I to leave.

Anyway, it’s a long, slow process, and that’s just fine.

Laurel has also started swim classes. For months she’s splashed and “swum” in the bathtub. Her love of water led us to believe she’d enjoy being in a swimming pool, so we signed her up for classes on Saturday mornings with Devin. Their first one was last week — and it was not met with the ebullient delight we imagined.

I wasn’t there, but she was pretty freaked out by the whole experience, owing in part to swallowing/choking on water a few times. Devin took her to a local YMCA pool again today; apparently she was very slightly less miserable this time. (And wanted to get back in the pool after getting out.) When I talked to her about it later, she said it scared her. I asked if she liked swimming and she said no, but she liked having a shower afterward.

– Beth

The maladies, they just keep coming

So, you would think we would have gotten all the misery out of the way in January, when we all came down with a horrible cold and Devin and I were flattened for about a week. You would think that, but you would be wrong.

The past two weeks have been astonishingly germ-ridden. Laurel came down with a persistent cough, but didn’t seem bothered by it. Then, one night last week, Devin said he was having “cold symptoms.” The next day, he was so sick — fever, aches, coughing — that he could hardly get out of bed. And that night, Laurel woke up at about 5 a.m. with the classic barky cough that signals croup.(As soon as her coughing and breathing calmed down and she went to sleep, I got up and searched the Internet to make sure I knew what to do. Fortunately, she only had mild trouble breathing, and nursing seemed to help her calm down. But I spent several nights awake, listening to her breath catch, worrying.)

After four or five days, Laurel was able to sleep through the night without coughing. Great, I thought, we’re in the clear. The next morning, we went out and had fun riding the cable cars, though she did mention at one point that her eyes hurt. At midday, Devin texted me to say he thought he had pinkeye. He’d also developed a persistent sore throat. Laurel wasn’t showing any signs of pinkeye, but by evening was getting chills. Her fever spiked above 103, and she started throwing up.

The next day, she slept and/or nursed pretty much the entire day. With each day she seemed to improve a little, except that the fever and lethargy were replaced with some kind of meltdown-inducing malaise. It was like the stories you hear of some of the worst toddler tantrums. Everything set her off. “No” was the word she used most, usually screaming and gasping through angry sobs. To say it was fun to be her caretaker this week would be almost a total lie.

Fortunately, everyone (sort of) seems to be on the mend. I just hope we’ve banked enough severe-illness karma to last us for a long while.

– Beth

Reading Into It

A while back, I remember trying to read books to Laurel and despairing because all she wanted to do was chew on the pages. (OK, so she was only 4 and a half months old when that picture was taken, but the tendency persisted for months.) We had to go through a lot of play-acting to keep her interest for more than a few pages. Meanwhile, some of her slightly-older friends were poring over books as though they held the clues to the location of the Lost Ark of The Covenant or something. It was a little discouraging.

However, she did eventually begin to love books — and demand that we read them, again and again and again. We can recite Charlie Parker Played Be-Bop and Jamberry and Barnyard Dance without looking at the pages, we’ve read them so many times. A few months ago, Laurel began not only naming her books (“Animals book,” “Water hole book,” “Germs book,” etc.) but quoting passages from them. Then she started being interested in longer books with more text than pictures, and quoting passages from those. It’s been really exciting and very rapid.

I mentioned in my last post that Laurel has been recently asking us to identify all sorts of things, including things she knows the names for already. But she’s now also pointing to words on various objects — books, signs, plates, where-ever she notices words — and asking, “that says?” She’s worked out that those combinations of letters represent particular words and she wants to know which ones. This is coming much earlier than I expected, and it’s kind of thrilling, especially to parents who love to read and write. Both of us were early readers, so it makes sense that she might be, too. Right now, we’re just trying to satisfy her curiosity as much as we can.

Oh, and remember how I said she was saying “walrus” a lot lately? I figured out what she’s saying. “With us.”

– Beth

Almost Two

Laurel’s babysitter recently said something like, “I think she’s going to turn out to be one of those good-natured but feisty ones.” I definitely saw a glimpse of that tonight at dinner. Devin was telling Laurel she had to hold her cup upright if she wanted to keep drinking milk from it. She kept tilting it and spilling milk out. This time, she made a display of showing she could hold it upright. And then, as though to see what would happen, she quickly tilted it over — and then back up again — her eyes locked on Devin’s the whole time. You could almost hear her saying, “Oh yeah? Watch me.

Laurel is almost two, and it’s becoming more obvious with every passing day. So far, though, her tantrums play out like she read about them in a book somewhere, and one that didn’t include good diagrams. For a while, she would throw herself onto the floor, then calmly look up as if to say, “Now what?” More recently, she’s thrown in a little bit of bonking her head on the floor. Yesterday, she managed to flop down and kick her feet a few times. That’s not to say she doesn’t have tantrums. More often, she has them upright, jumping and stomping and swinging her arms angrily back and forth, all while screaming and crying. Unfortunately, it’s kind of adorable. Hard on her, of course, but adorable.

She is really hungry for knowledge and music these days. Last May, when her vocabulary was first ramping up, she would point at all sorts of things and ask, “This?” As in, “What’s this called?” We’re in another phase of that now, though this time she’s asking, “That is?” or, once in a while, “What that?” Sometimes it’s because she doesn’t know the name of the thing she’s pointing at; other times she’s making sure that we still call it by the same name. She still speaks in a lot of one- or two-word phrases, but three or more words in a row is becoming more and more common. Her pronunciation is getting better on many words (“slippers” actually sounds like “slippers” now, instead of “ploo-ploo”), though longer and newer words are often somewhat indecipherable, particularly to people who don’t spend their days talking to her. “Chocolate” is more like “cha-lok-it” and “trampoline” is something akin to “slam-pling.” She recently started saying something that sounds like “walrus,” and even we have no idea what she means.

Our days are met with frequent requests for music. Her favorites right now include “The Pirate Song,” “Slippery Fish,” the alphabet song (which she has also started trying to sing), “Happy Birthday,” and a smattering of other songs and rhymes we’ve learned in various classes. “Old MacDonald” is another favorite, though she calls it the “Yayoyayo” (EIEIO) song. In fact, she likes this one so much I have to invent all kinds of animals that could conceivably be found on a farm (geese are her favorite) because she keeps asking for more verses. It’s a bit like last fall, when she got so stuck on “The Wheels on the Bus” that not only was I inventing verses, but she was.

Speaking of hungry, after being a pretty sparing eater since her introduction to solids, Laurel has finally begun eating most of her meals (and many, many snacks) in earnest. She has resisted some dinners lately, though, resulting in a very hungry and impossible-to-settle toddler in the middle of the night. (Nobody got much sleep this week because of that.) Fortunately, her palate is still pretty broad. She’s pickier now, but there are lots of things she will eat willingly, so we’re not worried about her nutrition.

At the same time, she’s more active than ever. She doesn’t walk much, especially when we’re out at the playground or another place she has free reign. She runs, at the fastest speed she can muster, in her clunky and oddly balanced toddler run, from one activity to another. Last weekend she ran all the way home from a park several blocks away (and down a rather steep hill). She has recently become more cautious on slides — slides she would bravely sail down a month ago, she won’t touch now unless she’s holding our hands or sitting on one of our laps and sliding with us.

She wants to do more and more things herself, and spends a lot of time testing (and being miserable about) the rules and boundaries we set for her. We’re steeling ourselves for the months (years?) of this yet to come, and trying to manage with our senses of humor. Fortunately, she’s also a tremendously fun and happy kid with her own sense of humor, and so far the good moods outnumber the bad ones.

We’ve also begun exploring local preschools, an intimidating process because there are so many (roughly 150 or so in San Francisco; at least 10 in our immediate neighborhood, ranging from low-key household arrangements to formal and even regimented Montessori programs), and because getting into them is very competitive. Laurel’s not even eligible for many of them until the fall of 2012, but since we have so much work to do and so many schools to see, we’re starting early. I know that makes us Those Parents who tour umpteen schools way before they’re supposed to. Hey, at least we didn’t start before she was born.

– Beth

Assorted pleasures and miseries

Self-suctioning

We’ve had the flu. Or a really awful cold. Or something in between — the two end up merging somewhere inbetween in a sort of continuum of misery. There’s a temptation to say that it must be a cold because our flu shots didn’t prevent it, but those aren’t perfect either, and there’s the lurking suspicion that apart from the flu vaccines this might have been worse — some of our friends who’ve picked up this lovely ailment have been down for weeks. Beth and I are both headed for around a week each and improving.

Laurel, damn her, was mostly recovered in only two days, only one of which coincided with our own, so we’ve been lousy parents this week. Not to the point that we’re letting her shoot heroin or watch commercial television, but bad enough to make a lot of messes, open and poke her fingers into many more toddler-accessible jars of things, or stream domestic animal footage off YouTube far more than usual — so long as it involved letting Mommy and/or Papa lie quietly on the couch and not move around very much or have to read Charlie Parker to her again.

Considering that she was cooped up in the house for about five days with no breaks longer than trips to the corner store for tissue paper and brief woozy toddles around the flat parts of the neighborhood, she held up well. She’s made some progress conversationally — she manages four-word sentences pretty often (usually missing the prepositions, conjunctions and articles), and can have back-and-forth discussions with several round trips before either she says something indecipherable or gets distracted. That was okay once my sore throat cleared up, though less okay once I started coughing instead, since she doesn’t have the attention span to sit out a lengthy bout of hacking without losing whatever I said beforehand (or more usually, carrying on with whatever she was going to say next.)

With the magic wand

At one point, miserable with congestion, I plugged in the Hitachi Magic Wand and started pressing it into my face to loosen things up in there. This actually works, by the way — not as well as huffing acetone or a suction pipe, but it’s less flammable and more readily obtainable in domestic contexts, and even if the effect only lasts a few minutes the only damage is from the electric bill. Seeing me doing this, however, Laurel wanted to try too. Once she got over the initial tickling, she couldn’t be separated from it — she’d press it to her feet, then drop it and squeal with giggles, then pick it up by the head so it vibrated her hand, then drop it and squeal again, etc. It was like having a fourteen year-old girl all of a sudden, except with all the salient details replaced with cute toddler ones.

Since I recovered enough to take her out for longer ventures, we’ve been on a gradual quest to revive the XO-1 I bought years ago, back before OLPC became a giant mass of politics, corporate sabotage and feasibility issues. That’s had us tramping around in search of a compatible lithium coin cell to run the RTC, without which it can’t boot. Laurel likes batteries — she greatly likes going to the store to buy replacement batteries for her toys, then turning the toy over and helping put new batteries in. Indeed she often wants to do this when it’s not needed, and gets quite excited when she finds a loose cell lying around that she feels should be put into something. The word itself is usually enough to thrill her. Less immediately thrilling has been trying to actually find the proper battery. The distinction between an ML1220 and MR1237 lithium cell seems about as subtle to her as it does to the benightedly undereducated louts staffing your typical drugstore or electronics retailer. The staff at our local hardware stores are a good deal better, but equally devoid of actual stock in the right sort. Not that Laurel’s really going to be ready to use a laptop anyway, even one designed for children, but it’s durable enough to let her try. She gets ahold of Beth’s laptop quite a lot, and happily presses keys, switches windows, adjusts the audio controls, etc. So she may well enjoy the opportunity, unless the relative drop in bling factor between OSX and Sugar doesn’t kill her enthusiasm.

I’m headed back to work tomorrow, virus or not, lest I forget how to go about my career entirely — one more slightly sniffly office worker amongst a whole horde of them, especially the ones with kids. It’ll have to do. They claim that getting sick enough as a kid helps you later on — but with this infection rate, not even having started daycare or preschool, I trust it does something for the parents too, down the line anyway.

- Devin

The naming of things

As I write this, I’m puzzling over what to do about Laurel’s very first fear. For a long time I’ve wondered what it would be, and now I know: the garage. What I don’t know is: what about the garage scares her? She won’t walk around in it anymore, like she used to. When one of us takes her down there, she clings and whimpers and refuses to be set down. If we do set her down, she screams. Today I tried asking: “Are you scared because it’s dark?” “Is it the car?” “Is it the neighbors’ dog?” (who once barked at her in there and startled her.) I got no conclusive responses. Nevertheless, I want us to learn how to alleviate her fear, to help her overcome it. Right now I’m stumped, but I’m working on it.

Fortunately, there’s plenty of good stuff going on. Laurel’s range of expression has really snowballed. She’s using many more two-word phrases and some three-word phrases, which makes communicating with her much easier. Of course, one of her favorite phrases right now is “have it?” As in, “can I have it?” (whatever object she’s just pointed out.) She also uses the word “help” a lot to request help doing something — we’re not quite to the point where she insists on doing everything herself and her own way, although I thought for sure I heard her say “[I] do it” today. She has caught on to my limiting certain objects — such as tissues or food items, so often she will hold up her index finger and ask for “one tissue,” “one wipe,” “one fig,” etc. It’s cute, until you realize she doesn’t understand the concept of “one” yet and will ask for one again — once she’s already gotten her hands on one. We’re working on counting, too. :)

Laurel went through a recent spate of learning all the names of everyone in her life. She can say mine and Devin’s names, though when she does it, she usually calls us “Papa Devin” and “Mommy Beth.” She also likes to talk about Grandma, Poppi, Grandpa, Gram, Nana, and so on. She recognizes all of her friends and knows their names, and many of their moms’ names as well. It started with Arlo and Kate and blossomed from there. She also learned her babysitter’s name early on. I think she’s happy and relieved to know the names of the folks she sees all the time, and she loves reciting them. She also names all the local shops as we walk from our house to the train station and back — our neighbors’ house, the grocery store, the library, the frozen-yogurt shop, the taqueria, the coffee shop, etc.

We had our second Halloween. Laurel wore a skunk costume and I dressed as an animal-control officer. On the day of Halloween we took Laurel trick-or-treating with a couple of other friends in a nearby neighborhood. At each house, she would get a piece of candy in her basket. Then she’d squish it in her hands until it was unrecognizable. Devin would take it and we’d give her a single M&M for the “treat.” She was very sad when we stopped after about 10 houses, and requested “walk treat” several times in the weeks after Halloween.

She seems to be a natural climber. At the playground, she loves any climbing structure — yesterday, she really mastered a ladder made out of chains that leads up to a small slide at the park. Then she would hoist her leg over the side and slide down. (She surprised me in another way: when another girl was climbing up, Laurel pointed to her and said “turn.” I said, “Yep, it’s her turn, but she’ll be done in a moment and then it can be your turn.” Laurel waited, then when the girl had gone down the slide, started climbing up.) In the kitchen, she loves pushing chairs around and then climbing up into them to get at things on the counters, or attached to the refrigerator. This has made the kitchen almost unbabyproofable, but it’s amazing to watch.

Laurel is very into giving hugs and kisses lately — to us, to her friends, to random toys. It’s cute and sweet, and I’m trying to enjoy it because I know it won’t last forever. She’s also somehow gotten into the idea of having her feet rubbed while she nurses. She will press her foot into my hand and, if I use my fingers, will correct me and ask me to use my thumb. Occasionally she will pause and say, “tickle,” asking me to tickle the bottom of her foot. She giggles, squirms away, then presses her foot into my hand again and resumes nursing. She’s not spoiled, right?

Devin and I have started the task of learning about preschools in San Francisco, as well as when and how to apply. Laurel isn’t eligible until the fall of 2012, but given that there are 150 preschools in the city and we need to apply a year ahead of time, there’s some work ahead of us. We recently took a class on the topic, which ostensibly helps us sort out the Montessoris and the Waldorfs and the play-based and the child-centered and so on and so forth. It’s overwhelming and intimidating — and one of those topics that drives everyone’s blood pressure up. It’s tough to predict what kind of school will be right for your child one or two years up the road, when toddlers change so much in the span of a few months. But we’ll do the best we can.

– Beth

Running ahead

It’s become more and more difficult to keep up with this blog, in large part because Laurel is developing and growing and changing so quickly that, as soon as we write down what she’s doing, she’s doing something else entirely. That was true when I wrote this essay less than two months ago, when she was still speaking just a few dozen words. Now, it’s well over 100 and we’ve stopped counting because there are sometimes three new words a day, sometimes more. When we came back from Europe in June she was just taking a few steps, and now she’s running everywhere.

We go to a college class every week where she and other toddlers are able to practice their motor skills on different pieces of play equipment; there’s one with a metal ladder on each side with a walkway like a sideways ladder strung between them. She can climb up the rungs and then walk across, holding on to the railings, like it’s no big deal. Then she asks me to help her back down, where she takes off running across the floor and trips on a floor mat because she doesn’t look where she’s going. For such occasions, she knows both “whoa!” and “boom!”

Eighteen and a half months ago she was born, and couldn’t do anything but blink, sleep, poop, and cry. Now she can request her favorite video (and identify the song if I sing a random line from it), eat with a spoon, take off her shirt, put on her shoes (with help), identify a handful of letters of the alphabet, and name the majority of important items that pass through her life on a given day, from beans to airplanes. She knows where her belly button is and loves pointing it out to people. She can also throw a pretty epic tantrum, but we’re learning how to nip those in the bud. In all, it’s pretty mind-blowing; most days I’m still wondering where, exactly, she came from.

Other than the aforementioned video, she’s also currently obsessed with the moon. It was full last week, giving us the opportunity to take her outside and show her the rising moon in the sky before bedtime. Since then, she’s asked to see it every night, and we had to explain that it’s not always in the same place in the sky at the same time. Our story was bolstered this morning when she spotted it in the sky on the other side of the house. She was very relieved to see it again, let me tell you.

Going out is a big, exciting deal, and must be mentioned only before the act of doing so because Laurel suddenly becomes a drill sergeant, calling out all the things we need to do and take with us. Socks! Shoes! Coat! Sunglasses! Backpack! Ergo! She will repeat these items with increasing volume and desperation until we’ve put them on and/or assembled them and are on our way out the door. Sometimes, when she asks where Devin is and I say he’s at work, she wants to make sure he took his backpack, coat, and shoes with him. I assure her that yes, he did. Sometimes she has to doublecheck.

Another activity we can’t mention unless it’s imminent is the bath. She loves taking baths. I think she would spend all day in the tub if we let her. She never sits down in the tub. For half an hour at a time, she sloshes from end to end, scooping up cupfuls of water and pouring them on herself, on me, into other cups, and drinking copiously. (We have alternate nighttime diapering strategies for bath nights.) If we have somehow mentioned the bath but failed to give her one, then she will cry and moan and say, “baaath!” very sadly.

She still loves nursing, and freaking out the cat. Her happiest moments include the ones when Devin comes home at the end of the day, or when I come home from being out for a while. She comes running, shouting “Papa!” or “Mommy!” and showers us with enthusiastic hugs at knee height. She loves food, and talking, and singing (especially “Wheels on the Bus” — I have had to make up new verses to keep up with her demands for “more.”), and doggies, and reading books.

She’s still a lot of fun. :)

– Beth

More, more, more

This is her favorite thing right now. As Devin put it, “ranking slightly above eating and breathing.” We swing her, or toss her, or twirl her, or flop her down on the bed, until she is panting from laughing so hard. She’ll often fall over, dizzy with the motion, and then sign, “More, more, more.”

It is exhausting. She weighs about 23 pounds now, and we are tired from late nights and early mornings. But it’s hard to deny her this pleasure, when she laughs and squeals and grins and asks for more.

I know every parent of a toddler says this, but Laurel is non-stop. When she wakes up in the morning, she sits upright and begins talking to us. We put her on the floor and she runs to the door, opens it, and heads out into the rest of the house. If she senses we’re going out, she will bring us the Ergo or sling and her shoes. When we’re out, she wants to do a lot of her own walking (whether it’s a good idea or not), which is remarkably tiring considering it’s slow and includes frequent pauses to check out flowers, dirt, cigarette butts and other detritus. We’re out of the house a lot these days, and when we are, I rarely get the chance to sit down anymore.

And that’s before she asks to be spun and bounced around.

Now that she’s on the go, she’s so much more independent. She rarely cries when we walk away, because she can keep up with us. (In fact, she’s almost running already.) It can be difficult to keep up with her. She will walk quite a ways away from us if we let her, trusting that everything will be all right. Sure, we read all the books that said if we kept her close in the early months, if we met her needs and loved her as much as we could, she would be more independent when she was ready. Is this the proof? Maybe. In any case, she’s a brave girl, and that’s such a pleasure to see.

She’s also becoming more of a social creature, at least with us. She sits in our laps, talks with us, leads us around by the hand, looks to see how we’re reacting to things, does things to make us laugh. She says “Dada” and “Mommy” a lot.

She knows more about what things do; she understands that phones are for holding to the ear and talking into, and that cameras and phones and computers often show pictures of babies, so she says “baby” at them a lot. She understands when we ask her to put something in her dresser or laundry hamper, or into a drawer, and will usually do it; she also knows the names of all our rooms and how to go to them if we ask her to. She understands the concept of “hot,” both when food is hot and when the ground is hot, and will blow sharply at anything too warm for her.

Everything else is continuing apace. She’s learning new words. She wants to read lots of books. And she is suddenly obsessed with the alphabet, asking us to recite letters from a toy with spinning block letters and read to her from a book full of kids showing items from each letter of the alphabet. She seems to get that these letters are a big deal, and she studies and considers them carefully — over and over again.

She’s a really fun person to be with. Her smiles are wonderful, and she likes to give hugs and kisses and to make people laugh. There are times, of course, when her emotions take over and she doesn’t like being told “no” or prevented from doing something she wants to do. We’re not even into full-blown tantrum territory, but this intermediate stage is teaching us some strategies for defusing her more explosive states.

At least, we hope so.

– Beth

This and that

We didn’t mean to go quite this long without updating Laurel’s blog, but it’s been a time of tremendous activity, growth, and change — and we did some traveling — so it’s been difficult to know when is the right time to hit the pause button and say, “This is what she’s doing now.”

However, Laurel is 15 months old now, and had her pediatrician’s visit today, so now seems as good a time as any!

Probably the biggest news is that she’s walking. Over the past month, or maybe a little more, she has gone from taking a few tentative steps each day to walking across the house — and spending very little time crawling anymore. Weeks ago, she would try a little walking, fall down, and cling to one of us in frustration and reluctance. Now, she falls down now and then, but gets up again and keeps going. She really seems to like walking, both because it’s a nice way to get around and because she can carry things while she’s on the go, which doesn’t work so well when you’re on hands and knees.

She’s also learned a few new signs. Lately, “potty,” “tree,” and “dog” are among her favorites. Our downstairs neighbors just got a dog, and every time it barks, Laurel signs “dog” (snapping her fingers), but also makes little “ruff, ruff” sounds happily. When loud cars, trucks, or motorcycles go by she says, “vrrooooooom!” She uses a handful of words regularly, and is experimenting with lots of syllables, as though any minute now she’s going to glue them all together and speak in complete sentences. By now she seems to understand what we’re saying most of the time, and has started nodding “yes” or “no,” although it’s not always clear that she knows what those mean yet.

Also over the past month, she has started saying “this” and “that.” More specifically, she points to an object and says “this?” (if it’s nearby) or “that?” (if it’s further away), asking us to tell her what it is. While we were traveling in Europe, she would wake up in the morning and sit between us in the bed, asking us to name the headboard, pillows, blankets, and other items in the room. Now, when we’re out and about, she wants to know the names of everything we see.

She really enjoyed traveling. She gets a little bit airsick, and was frustrated by the amount of time she spent in the Ergo, but she behaved well on the long flights, and loved seeing all the sights while we were visiting. One of her favorite things was seeing cows close-up on Dartmoor, in England, where she spent a lot of time shouting “moooo!” to them.

Although she’s generally a happy kid, Laurel has gotten pretty stubborn and willful. She cries and screams when we pull her away from something she isn’t supposed to be doing or playing with. She doesn’t throw full-fledged tantrums (yet), but she does occasionally lay on the floor when she’s in a good mood and kicks the floor with her feet, as if to practice for when the time comes. She has also developed some separation anxiety and doesn’t want us to put her down, leave the room she’s in, etc. — she will cling to our legs, cry, and ask to be picked up and taken with us.

She’s also been more difficult to feed. She’s often happy to feed herself pieces of food we put in her high chair tray, but she no longer wants to be spoon-fed anything. She likes to grab the spoon and feed herself, which is very messy indeed. If you try to take the spoon from her, say to load it with more food or prevent her from dumping its contents on herself, she’ll scream and turn bright red. She signals that she’s done with a meal by sweeping or dropping all remaining food onto the floor. Sigh.

On the other hand, she lets us know she wants to stay in our arms by giving us hugs, and lately she’s been giving us lots of kisses, which is just about the most heart-melting thing ever. She also kisses the cat, her friends, her friends’ dogs, the pictures in her books, and so on. She also lately loves to be turned upside down or swung around, likes to climb into chairs (especially the rocking chair), stand up and bounce in them, and blow spit bubbles. Sometimes all at once.

She’s a fun kid. :)

– Beth

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