My Baby Turns Eighteen (Months).

Dear Ella,

It recently dawned on me that we’re writing your history. “I was born in San Diego and then at 18 months we moved to ??”. But I guess that’s what parents do – control your destiny until you’re old enough to control your own.

I have a feeling that we’re going to look back on these years as the fun years. The easy years. I’m starting to see more glimpses of your independent streak – how you stubbornly refuse to try even one bite of Lemon Easter Pie (c’mon, it’s dessert!) How you threw a fit about wearing a dress and tights – until we let you put socks on too.

Our role as role models is becoming more apparent, as well. You’re starting to imitate us more and more. When I ask you where something is, you reply with “Hmmph.” And repeat it as you look for that object. I didn’t realize that’s the sound I make when I can’t find something until I heard it come out of your mouth.

I hope we’re guiding you in the right direction in life. Geographically and otherwise. Or as Ben Folds says in his song Gracie, “One day you’re gonna want to go, I hope we taught you everything you need to know,” Ella girl.

Much love,

Mama

Other recent cuteness:

You’ve learned how to call people’s names – drawing each syllable out. You call out their name -- and then respond with your name for them. It’s the cutest thing to hear you running down the hall saying, “Pa-pa! Pa-pa! I-ya! I-ya! Papa!” (translation: Papa! Papa! Ella Ella!)

You climbed on top of the dining room table. And the changing table. (More scary, than cute.)

You were playing outside and found a roly-poly bug, pointed to it and said “Tu-tu.” (translation: Turtle)

A few days ago, you took a napkin from the table and held it up to your face, pulled it down and said “Poo Poo.” (translation: Peek-a-boo) Now you’re learning to say Boo for Peek-a-boo and Poo-poo for something else...