16 months

My baby girl is going to be 16 months tomorrow.  Sixteen.  I can’t believe it.  I’m not really sure where the time went.  Or what I’ve been doing for the past 16 months. I think most of that 16 months is reflected in the gray in my hair.  Pretty sure.

Courtney is all girl, looks more like her dad than me and is more and more amazing every day.

I went to a consignment sale the other day where I picked up two trucks and 3 dolls.  I was all about trucks when I was young.  I’m still more about the trucks than the dolls.  But no, Courtney looooves her dolls.  She loves to walk around with her dolls, she loves to feed them from the bottle, she sits and rocks them and carries them all around the house.  She was even singing to her doll the other day.  I don’t know where she gets that love of dolls, it’s not from me.  She did play with the trucks today, she used them as a stepping stool.  And then she fell when the truck with wheels rolled away.  I tried to tell her it was a bad idea, but she didn’t listen.  Kind of like me, stubborn – I’ll show you attitude.

She has my eyes.  Big, brown and innocent.  Well, the big and brown she got from me, not really the innocent.  But everyone who sees her when she’s with Paul and I, immediately says “Wow, she looks just like her dad (but she has your eyes, mom).”  Poor girl.  I mean, she’s so cute!

Courtney continues to love to dance.  And sing.  If I hum, she’ll hum along with me and then continue on her own.  And sometimes when I sing, she dances.  Lucky for us both, she doesn’t know I sing like crap.

She won’t give kisses.  She’s just like her dad in that.  You ask her for a kiss and she shakes her head like crazy and, on special occasions, she slaps you upside the head.  Paul doesn’t slap me in the head when I ask for a kiss, usually.  OK, ever.

She loves her some pasta.  Like BOTH Paul and I.  Pasta is the bomb.

She’ll do something she’s not supposed to and she’ll look at me, tilt her head a little, and shake her head no.  She knows that she’s doing something she shouldn’t.  But if she shakes her head before she does it, it’s like it will be ok.

When I hide behind something or tilt my head and give her a funny look, she’ll laugh and laugh and laugh.  She thinks I’m funny.  I’m so glad someone does.  I’m not sure how long that is going to last….

There’s something about the bottom step that she finds comforting.  She’ll take her doll or a certain toy and go and sit on the bottom step.  And she’ll just sit there forever.  Sit and sit and sit.  It’s like a place of solace for her.

And when she’s tired and won’t sleep, she is whiny.  WHINY.  Just like me.  And a little stabby and irritated at everything.  I’m so glad that I could pass along my best trait.  Genetics rock.

Thanks for the greatest 16 months ever, my beautiful girl.