18 Months!

A few days ago the baby, aka ERP, turned 18 months.

How did that happen?

Oh I know. I blinked.

Don't blink.

Ever.


I often forget that he is not a baby anymore, but rather a toddler.

This also leads me to forget that TT isn't a toddler anymore, but rather a preschooler.

And when did that happen?

And don't even get me started on the biggest boy, and his hairy upper lip and deep baritone singing voice.

Anyhow, I digress....

ERP is still a little squirt. I call him Bird. Husband calls him Mouse. He has his 18 month check-up next week and he may finally weigh 20 lbs. He is certainly going through a growth spurt these days.

He may look a lot like TT and have some of RR's mannerisms, but he is certainly not his brothers. He has broken the mold in every way possible. From his blue eyes and curly hair, to his temper and all of those teeth. He is one tooth shy of having all of his first set of molars, and then on to cutting his eye teeth.

And that temper I mentioned. Oh the temper. He pitches the biggest fits. He bites toys and furniture. He turns beat red. He throws things. He just gets so mad. It takes all of mine and Husband's strength not to laugh at his over the top pint size melt downs.

He is still nursing. Which is another post in itself. I recall being so happy with reaching this milestone with TT. These days nursing is the same as breathing. It just happens.

ERP has a total disgust for getting wet. And as we found out the other day, when we went to the park; he also hates sand. Really hates sand. As in "clean my hands every time it touches me" hates sand. He should be a ball of fun at the beach this summer.

So the water thing. He hates it. Unless it's the dogs dish, a small puddle or his water table. Water he has to get into. Forget it. When he has to be bathed, it's a two person job. One to hold him down and the other to wash him. He totally looses his shit. Seriously. And he tries to escape from the water like it was on fire. He will scale you like a cat climbing a tree to get away from a dog.

Actually he tries to climb me a lot. He is without a doubt a "worn child". He is also a mama's boy. He likes Husband enough, until I'm around. When I am around, everyone else if chop liver... assuming you don't like chop liver.

Food. Food is all over the place. Some days he's eats, and eats a variety of stuff. Other days he turns his nose up at everything.

He's all about doing what his brothers do. He loves hanging out with them. He likes RR to take him for walks in the stroller, and he loves playing play-doh and coloring with TT.

But he doesn't plenty his brother's never did. He climbs. Oh, he climbs. On everything. He likes to stand on chairs. He races from one side of the couch to the other. And it's not like we endorse these activities; they happen in a blink of an eye. He certainly keeps us on our toes.

And for everyone that ask - how's he's sleeping? He's not. We'll just leave it at that.

And now... the photos.