You are 22 months old and I want you to know that in spite of all that has happened in my life during that time, I thank God that you are here to bless my life.
In the past several months, you have transformed from a baby to a full-fledged toddler. You are communicating at an amazing rate and while your diction leaves a little to be desired, I have learned to speak fluent Girly – which makes hanging out with you a lot of fun.
One thing that I have come to love about you is your sense of humor. You know how to ham it up with a silly face and laugh at whatever the world has presented. You have even learned to use good old gas-passing as humor, which I discovered the other night when I lay you in your crib and you suddenly shouted, “Toot-Toot, Daddy!” and you let out a rather loud noise from your nether-regions, giggling mischievously as you looked into my eyes with pure joy lighting up the darkness of the room. Of course, I laughed too. Because fart jokes are always funny.
And that mischievousness also is evident in other ways. You know when you shouldn’t be doing something and when you are caught, let’s say, sneaking a granola bar from the pantry, you don’t wallow in pity or look at me with puppy-dog eyes begging for forgiveness. No, you take off running with your little hand clutching the contraband like a vice.
As you can see, you can be quite a handful. You are opinionated, loud, full of energy, hard-headed and filled with a spark that lights up the room. And I love every damn minute of it.