You are eighteen months today, baby girl, and I can scarcely believe it.
It seems like just yesterday you were a snuggly little bundle nestled against my shoulder or settled in your bouncy seat, contentedly watching the world go by.
Now, those still, snuggly moments come rarely. You are always on the run these days, your perfect little curls bouncing as you go.
You love to be outside, to watch your sister and her neighborhood buddy whizz by on their bicycles, to climb in and out of your play house, to point out the trucks at the school construction site nearby.
You love words and are picking up new ones every day now. You are constantly asking for a "nack" or for your little blue sun "at" to wear outside.
You love Elmo and bears and babies and fruit of all kinds.
You love playing with people's hair and often fall asleep with your little fingers holding on to your own curls.
You love to laugh, to make us laugh. When you taste a particularly delicious food, your whole face lights up in a smile, and you giggle. When we ask you what your name is, you usually say, "Nor-Nor," your word for your little friend Nora. You love how we react to your intentional mistake, the way we say shake our heads and laugh at your antics.
Your love is fierce, baby girl. When you want a hug or a kiss, you come at me full force, throwing yourself at me with abandon. If your dad or your sister is laying on the ground, you love to run and dive on top of them. You don't worry that you won't be caught; you just leap.
As you have from the beginning, you continue to bring all of us so much joy.