She’s a little whirlwind, why walk when you can run. We visited them this weekend, Lindsay warned me that she has discovered her screamer, and she’s right. She runs through the house barefoot, squealing at the top of her lungs. Then she stands on her tippy toes and walks across the floor.
Despite my repeated attempts to get her to call me “Grammie” she refused, opting instead to refer to her grandpa as “Bampa.” I was so desperate I tried to get her to call me “Bammie” but it was hopeless. She would just look at me and say “no.”
That’s her favorite word, “no.” She says it for everything. She shakes that little head and is very emphatic about it, too.
She’s a busy little bee, doesn’t want to sit on your lap, only cuddles when she is tired, she has too much to do, exploring her world. She is totally in love with Handy Manny, watches his cartoons intently, while clutching her Handy Manny doll. She tries to use the screwdriver to screw things from her Handy Manny Toolbox, and of course hubby thinks that’s the cutest thing ever.
She has definite ideas about food. She does not want anybody feeding her, she wants to do it herself. She enjoyed dunking her french fries in yogurt at Cracker Barrel, and speared chicken with a fork and fed to anybody that would take it. Did she eat it herself, of course not, she only likes Chick-fil-A. I discovered quickly that she would much rather feed you her food than eat it, except for yesterday when she ate half a bag of my Baked Lay Chips. She put those chubby little hands into the bag and crammed them in her mouth as fast as she could, not once offering to share with “Bammie.” She’s just like her mama, she loves anything salty.
She’s crazy about her daddy, he’s the only one she will always give a cuddle to. She lights up when he enters the room, yells, “Dada” and runs to him as fast as she can with those little arms in the air to pick her up.
Sixteen months is a precious age, I wish I could make time stand still, she’s changing so fast…
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