My little peanut is 19 months old today. NINETEEN MONTHS. Almost 20 months. Pretty darn close to two years old. And even though she’s been wearing 2T clothes for a while, and has been showing some signs of the terrible twos - read, TEMPER TANTRUMS - I’m still in total disbelief with how FAST the past few months have flown by. Super-turbo lightening speed. SLOW DOWN, UNIVERSE!

So this past month, while fast, was probably one of the most fun months we have had. We spent lots and lots of time outside, enjoying all the wonderfulness that Asheville has to offer in the fall. And for being a little princess with a baby doll in constant tow, our little girl LOVES to get down and dirty playing outside. Collecting rocks, throwing the ball for Ruby, digging in the garden, running through the leaves. As soon as we step out the front door, you can literally see the energy surging through her little body. And it’s wonderful.



And with all the added activity, and a foreseeable growth-spurt, she has become a hunger beast. She pretty much has the appetite of a teenage football player, and will run to the pantry at least ten times a day and squeal, CRAH-KERR (cracker), until you feed her something. And good luck trying to eat anything yourself in our house without sharing with T. She just positions herself like a little bird next to you, chiming Bite, BITE, BYE-EAT, until you give her a taste of whatever you’re enjoying. And, here’s the best part, say you’re eating chips and salsa, and just try to give her a chip, she’ll hold it in the air, whining, until you put a dab of salsa on it. Seriously. When it comes to food, you’re not getting ANYTHING past this kid. What can I say, she’s MY CHILD. Food is good.
And other than eating what we eat, she’s also finding fun ways to imitate everyone in the house these days. She’ll look at Ruby and bark like a dog. She’ll grab my hairbrush and give herself a new do. She’ll even pretend read her toy-ad when I’m reading the paper in the morning. But the best has to be when either Chris or I sneeze or cough, and she’ll stop what she’s doing and start fake coughing or making sneezing noises. Sometimes she’ll even grab a baby wipe and pretend blow her nose, which is really her just making honking noises. And every time she’s done copying us, she’ll get the biggest smile on her face and let out a laugh like, SEE! I can do that too!
She’s has also been a total dream to take places this past month, and can be quite the old-lady charmer at the grocery store or restaurants. Always flashing them cheesy smiles, hugging her baby doll and saying Buh-bye when we leave. And she’s been such a good girl while I’ve been working out at the YMCA. She pretty much rules the Child Watch room there, and will stare down any other child that dares take one of the 14 baby dolls she is playing with at anytime. The other day when I picked her up, one of the guys working there said, Taylor is the freshest kid in here. And being the old person I am, I asked, That’s good, right? And he laughed at me, and said, Yeah, I’m always happy to see her.

She did pick up a few bizarre habits this past month, like putting all of my hair-ties around her wrist and wearing them like bracelets, developing a deep-love for a rock she found in the garden, and, most interestingly, putting things down the front of her shirt. I know. Weird. And it’s not like she’s trying to hide these objects from us, because she’s mostly just shoving her own toys down her shirt. We have this fake, toy milk-jug with a dozen or so big, plastic coins that go with it. And she’ll take each coin out and stash them all down the front of her shirt, then she’ll stand up, shake them out the bottom of her shirt and laugh like crazy. It’s hilarious to watch. Even more so when she shoves a toy down her shirt and then forgets about it, like she did with her toy-phone last week:

And even though the cuteness has been off the charts this past month, it has come with a price. And that price is the violent, body-shaking temper tantrums that have become a bit more frequent than I’d like. For example, last Saturday she had a 45 minute come apart - FORTY FIVE MINUTES! - because she did not want macaroni and cheese for lunch. I know, Who wouldn’t want delicious pasta and fake cheese for lunch? My little monster, that’s who. And after trying cartoons, applesauce, her favorite books, all to no avail, I finally just walked away from her. And she picked her pitiful, tear-covered, snot-nosed self off the floor and FOLLOWED me into the next room. And she walked right up to me and held out her arms, and when I reached down to pick her up, she collapsed on the floor and kicked and screamed bloody murder. She TRICKED me. And this trickery lasted another half-hour before I finally just put her in her crib and down for her nap. We were BOTH exhausted. I was so mentally worn-out that I had a beer with lunch just to calm me down a bit. And then I was forced to watch the Hawkeyes lose to NORTHWESTERN. Seriously? What’s next, Universe? Are you going to cancel Christmas?
And after watching that painful excuse of a football game, Taylor started to wake up and roll around in her crib. And, like every afternoon, I plucked her snuggly, warm body out of her crib and brought her into our room to cuddle on the bed and watch cartoons. And we laid there quietly, me smelling her hair and kissing her soft cheeks, all thoughts of the previous melt-down and horrific Hawkeye loss faded into nothing. Just lying there with my sweet, sweet little girl was all I needed. She makes me the luckiest person in the whole world.