Friday, August 12, 2016

Christian, 17 months

Oh my sweet boy. 
I don't really know where to start. You are a little man with a giant personality. Silly, easygoing, loving, happy little copycat.

There's really no end to how happy you are.
A few days ago, you woke us up bright and early at 6:30 am, and Daddy and I stumbled out of bed to be with you. We sat in a stupor on the couch while you turned on your keyboard and began to dance circles around the living room, saying "Dance! DANCE!" and laughing with delight when you'd fall down.  

What kind of person gets out of bed at 6:30 am just so he can dance? 
We like to say that you prance around the house shooting rainbows out of your fingertips. Because that's pretty much what you do. You are unbelievably happy, constantly oozing joy and enthusiasm. A tiny bundle of sunshine running down the halls.

And I have no idea what we'd do without you, dear boy.

You are busy busy busy, always working on something, doing something, following the big kids around and trying to be like them. 

One of your favorite words is "button" (always shouted as "BUT!!!" which is super fun when you see the buttons on the card reader when we're paying for our groceries. Yes, that's my child who is screaming "butt" in the checkout line, thankyouverymuch.)
You get endless joy out of pushing the doorbell button, the garage door opener button, and the light switch "buttons."

Although you're busy, you don't much get into stuff. You're more interested in getting on top of stuff. You no longer put little things in your mouth much, and you've finally mastered stairs and the need to be careful about getting down them, so mostly I just have to pay very close attention to where you are at all times, just to make sure you're not attempting to climb on top of the piano, sit on the ledge of your high chair tray, or scale the shelves in the pantry. 

You are scary-smart, and you pay attention to what is going on. A few days ago I asked the kids in the car what we should have for dinner. Before anyone else could answer your high little voice yelled out from behind your rear-facing carseat, "RICE!"  I laughed so hard I almost had to pull over. 
And yes, we had rice that night.
Also, I'm paying much closer attention to what I say around you, since apparently you're listening.

You are the ultimate copycat. Whatever Nick and Ellie are doing, you must do too. When I take you to Primary with me on Sundays, you have me set up a chair just for you, and then you climb up into it and sit there with your hands in your lap, thinking you're just one of the big kids, and so proud of yourself for it.
You love to copy Ellie by wearing her tiara or necklaces. One afternoon you strolled into the room with her string of beads hung over your ears, unbelievably proud of yourself for managing that.
You've also learned to copycat their tantrums and tears. Which is both hilarious yet maddening. 
You're fiercely jealous of me, so when I'm comforting one of the others because of a skinned knee or stubbed toe, you plop yourself down on the other side of my lap and fake cry "waaaaaaa" while pointing to your imaginary injury in exactly the same place as your sibling's.  Ellie scratched her foot a week ago and was holding it saying "Owie! Owie!" over and over. You watched her for a moment, then sat down and grabbed your own foot and moaned "Owie!" 

You're a mama's boy through and through, and also jealous of my affection. When I give Daddy a kiss before he leaves for work each morning, as soon as we part I find your face inches from mine, lips puckered ready to give me a smooch smack on the lips as well. 

Your favorite place to be is either outside (you ask us to open the door for you by saying "doonk," which means nothing to us except it's what you always say when you want a door opened,) or in my lap reading a book (requested by saying  "gook.") Last Sunday morning Daddy read you no less than seventeen books before any of the rest of us had even gotten out of bed.

When you realize that you are going to get what you've asked for, you tip your head back and grin, slowly clap your hands, and cheer "YAAAASSSS." 
I die every time.
You stroll with your hands behind your back, particularly after you've told us a great long "story."  Your habit of babbling away, with perfectly matched facial expressions and hand gestures but not a single real word is one of my most favorite things about you. I have video after video of these stories on my phone--it's just too cute!

Speaking of cute, when you're happy to see us, you grin, tip your head back, close your eyes, and run to us (with head back and eyes still closed.) A dangerous habit, but I don't think anything else has ever made me feel so loved.

 This summer has been a summer of perpetually scraped knees for you. You're a runner and a climber and so tough--sometimes you'll surprise us with how you don't even care when you bloody your knees or pinch your fingers again.

You are a water maniac. At Grandma and Grandpa's house last month, you saw their sprinkler out in the grass, ran over to it, looked back at Jonah who was watching you out there, and then stuck your face straight into the spray of the water, letting it blast you at point-blank. 

You were using sidewalk chalk with the kids in the driveway when our own sprinklers came on. Nick and Ellie stood and bolted for the garage so they wouldn't get wet, while with equal urgency you stood and bolted for the sprinklers so you would get wet.  

I signed you and me up for a Mommy and Me swim class while the kids took their swim lessons these past two weeks, and although it was colder and you weren't really into it this week, the first week was so much fun. You kicked and splashed and reached for the side so you could climb out, count one two three! and jump back in again over and over and over again.
I really loved having that time, doing something fun, just you and me. We don't get that enough, Christian.

Because climbing on top of the table is your favorite, you often find the food that Nick and Ellie left behind. And boy what a mess you can make with it!

You found a sucker that didn't belong to you..... You also like to "borrow" my toothbrush every time you come into my bathroom. 

You've been talking like crazy lately. In the pool earlier this week you weren't having any fun and when I asked you if you wanted to swim more, you said, "It's too brrr," clear as can be. So we got out.

You've learned the word "no," and you use it freely, even when you actually mean "yes." Sometimes I forget that, and I take it as a real "no," and it takes me a moment to figure out why you're suddenly so frustrated. No means no, and yes. I'll try my best to remember that, Bud.

 other words you know:
two (as in one, two three!)
hi and bye
drink ("Deutch!")
banana ("Mna mna!")
dog (although it sounds like "woof!")
grapes ("bup")
touch (when I say "don't touch" you nod and shout "touch!")
dance (one of my favorites. You'll point to our bluetooth speaker and say "Dance!" then show me a little spin in case I didn't realize you meant you want me to turn on music.)
Josh & Alicia
dang it (yep.)
and sometimes, if we're realllly lucky, you'll say Dad. Never Mom. I think you just assume that everything you say is already directed towards me, so there's really no point in saying my name first. 
And you know, that's all right with me.

Monday, August 1, 2016

light up the night

Our city doesn't allow fireworks. (Too high up in the foothills, too dry.)
But on the 24th of July, Utah's Pioneer Day,
we wanted to have a party. 

So we invited some of our neighbors and friends over for a Ice Cream and Glowsticks street party.

The skies put on the first show of the evening as we were setting up the party.

We ate ice cream sundaes, Kent turned on some music for us,
and we began the glow-in-the-dark fun.
 One of our neighbors invented this super amazing glowsticks blaster that shot 40 glowsticks at a time about 100 feet into the air.
Like a firework.
Minus the fire hazard.

We really just love this place where we live.