Here comes Peter Cottontail

Dear Bug-

Happy Easter, sweetheart! I can't believe how much you've grown and changed since last Easter. For one thing, you grew some hair! Do you remember your little bald self from last year? Remember the goldfish buttons, Bug? They were pretty awesome.

Nana came through for you again this year, though, Bug, and you put up a stiff competition to beat out yourself for World's Cutest Easter Outfit. Here's this year's entry:

You're 18 months old now, Princess. A whole year and a half. I can't even begin to believe it. At your doctor's appointment this week, we got all of your statistics and it's not just my imagination that you growing right into a big kid. You're in the 96th percentile for height and the 69th for weight. Basically, you are as tall as the average 2 year old. You ARE the scale for beautiful, in case you were wondering.

You're learning so much about your own little body, too! You can point to your hair, eyes, nose, teeth, ears, cheeks, tummy, toes, and bottom. We all get a kick out of that one. You should see the mouth full of chompers you've grown, too. You have your 2 year molars already, and you basically look like a little girl-sized t rex.

Raise your hand if you can think of the most fabulous thing about being 18 months old.

Yes, Bug? Eighteen months old means NURSERY, you say? Ding ding ding!! You're right! NURSERY, honey. NURSERY. No more chasing your maddeningly adorable self all around the Relief Society room. No more Mama getting all gussied up just to spend all three hours of church following you up and down hall. No more unexpected banshee screams during the closing prayer. NURSERY, my love. It's the best word in the world.

And speaking of words, you know a few. You can say ball, baby, dog, and milk. My favorite word, though, is for your best pal in the whole world. From the moment you see his car pull into the driveway after work, you begin to holler and flap your arms in excitement.

Daahie! you squeal. Daaaaaahhhieeee!

And if he doesn't answer immediately-- and I mean immediately as in within .00000002 seconds with a cheerful, "what, sweetie?"-- you assume he must not be able to hear you, and you know how to solve that problem. Volume.

DAAAAHHHIEEEEEE!

And that's about the time my heart melts into a puddle of goo, even if you don't know how to say Mama yet.

You are very, very good at signing for things you want. You can sign milk, food, more, dog, please, thank you, all done, ball, music (MJ taught you the wrong sign, but it gets the job done), stinky (for your dirty diapers), and airplane. Oh, and how you love airplanes! Your little ears are tuned into the sound of them flying high above the sky, and each time you hear one, your whole face lights up into an enormous smile and your little hand flies through the sky. I can't wait until it's warm enough to drive out by the airport and watch them take off and land. You will be in Bug heaven.

Except for one part, I guess, and that is that I imagine that we won't take Lupe out to the airport, and there couldn't be a heaven for you without your puppy there. We always let her in when you're done eating to clean up your mess, and you giggle and laugh the entire time. You love to follow her around chasing her tail and laughing hysterically when it sweeps across your cheeks. You love to cover her up with your favorite purple blanket. You two are like little soul mates.

I can't wait for summer time, my sweet. I bought you shorts, and your stumpy little legs sticking out the bottom are just to die for. Oh, and guess what. Do you see the sandals you're wearing for Easter? They're Saltwater sandals. Mama had a pair EVERY SINGLE SUMMER, and now you do, too. I used to be so mad that my mom wouldn't let me have jelly shoes. Ahh, how we grow and learn. Little did I know that a.) jelly shoes make your feet all sweaty. Gross. and b.) Saltwater sandals are the most ADORABLE things.

Anyway, that's enough for now. I love you, my darling baby girl, and I can't imagine my world without you in it.

Love you all the way to the moon and back,

Mama