Cole and Avery are 18 months old. This is the final monthly update in this fashion. Instead of just rambling on, I’m going to ask the others who live in my house to throw in their 2 cents (Madison) and $51.29 (Lynnette). Madison’s thoughts will be printed in her customary pink, Lynnette’s in blue (her favorite color), and I’ll make mine orange (duh).
I think of Cole, like, energetic, maybe a little less chubby than I thought he would be. And now he gets into more trouble than he usually did. Sometimes I would catch him trying to whack the TV, going over the couch, and he’s also hitting the glass case. He loves his mom and doesn’t want to share her. Cole Boy, I thought I would be calling you “Ramona” from Ramona and Beezus but now that you’re older, you don’t tantrum too much.
He’s an awesome little boy who learns a lot quickly. He’s learning how to throw a ball cooperatively. He’s growing too fast. He’s very loving, very affectionate. He’s learning to eat new things, he learned how to close a door and he’s trying to open doors. He recognizes me when I get home. He loves Wheel of Fortune and he’s trying to shaka. When Wheel of Fortune comes on, he claps. He tried to catch his pee when he saw himself peeing in the tub yesterday; he tried to grab it. Cole, I don’t mind sleeping with you in the bed. You’re a great snuggle buddy.
After Lynnette bathes the twins she drops Cole off in the play area wearing nothing but his hooded towel. “Diaper Boy!” I scream. Cole squeals and runs away from me. I strap a diaper on him pretty quickly while he raspberries the water still on his lips. It’s a highlight. Cole answers to his name and simple directions. If I ask him to come down from something, he generally does. If I tell him to stop what he’s doing, he usually does. Last weekend I scolded Cole in front of my parents. The very first thing he did was look at my parents who were staring back at him. He eyes watered and he started to cry. He knows shame. That’s good. His favorite thing in the entire world is waving goodbye at people. Cubby Candy, I really don’t like getting kicked in my face while trying to sleep. But I love the look on your face when I carry you downstairs. You know we’re going outside and every single time is like the first time. I hope you hold onto that wonder forever.
Avery is a good girl, sometimes is naughty. I love that she lies down on the ottoman just babbling to herself. She sometimes laughs when Cole laughs. And when someone farts, she blows raspberries. I love that she eats a lot. I love that she eats everything from chips to toys on the floor. Avie, you make a great roommate.
Avery is turning into a picky eater. She loves Donald Duck. She likes to throw herself, she likes rough and tumble play. If you say “Where’s Avery?” she covers her eyes. Her laughter is very cute and contagious. She doesn’t know how to walk – she only runs. She likes to play the drop-the-puppy game (Reader’s Note: Drop-the-puppy is a game in which Avery lifts a beanie baby puppy above her head before unceremoniously dropping it to the floor. Cole and Avery find this hilarious). She can be a very stubborn child; there’s something to be said about her persistence. Avery, my little joey, I love you. You’re my favorite – don’t tell your brother and sister.
Avery has complete contempt for boundaries and the authority of her parents. She’s recently taken to climbing over the back of the couch and grabbing items off my desk. Then, she’ll turn on the spot (atop a small shelf) and dive bomb back onto the couch. Face first. Every time. She also climbs over the arm of the couch and lands on the ottoman. Then she lowers herself onto the floor and roams the living room and kitchen, looking for non-food items to shove into her mouth. If I shout her name, she will look at me for a split-second before continuing on with whatever taboo activity she’s already started. I, for one, cannot wait for her teenage years. It’s not hear fault. She loves wide open spaces, just like her father. When she’s there she breaks out into this lumbering sprint that more resembles a boulder rolling down hill than a tiny human running. She head bobs up and down, sometimes her light hair at the front of her head gets caught in the wind as she passes. But always, just the right arm pumps while the other dangles at her side. It is a sight to behold. Gravy Boat, I am afraid that you’re legitimately crazy. You force your body to create more adrenaline in 15 minutes than I do in a week. You are fearless and man, I hope I can keep up with you.