Vive la difference

What a difference a year makes: to the left is little old me one year ago yesterday, while below is me exactly one year later. Ah, so much has changed.

A year ago, I was toothless, virtually bald, and could barely hold my head up; now, I have about ten teeth (I'm not letting anyone in my mouth long enough for an accurate count), a luscious head of hair, and I can run and jump and dance and dive across my parents' bed. It's hard to believe I'm the same person!








A year ago, my big social achievements were crying for milk, perking up when I smelled milk, and occasionally smiling. Now, I have a developed sense of humor, I laugh like a hyena, and I can ask for exactly what I want to eat ("apple?", "cheese?", "bread?", "broccoli?"). My consistent spoken vocabulary also includes "Daddy," "ball," "star," "tree," "up," "down," "bye-bye," "hi," "dog," "button," "hat," and countless others, plus I try out new words daily and demonstrate my understanding of words I can't say yet. I can also recreate the sounds made by cows, ducks, sheep, bears, dogs, and monkeys, not to mention trains and cars, and I can give high-fives, wave hello and good-bye, and use the hand sign for "more." The world is my oyster! Not that I can say oyster, of course, but at least I can effectively communicate my desire for it.




My imagination is definitely on the rise. I've been putting on Daddy's hat and Mommy's shoes lately, and I spend ten or fifteen minutes at a time trying to put my toy keys in the front door lock and then pretending to open the door. And yesterday, at lunch, I scooted a french fry across the tabletop while saying, "Choo-choo!"




























I've been enjoying the Christmas trees at Nonna's and Grandma T's, but Sunday morning when I woke up I found TWO Christmas trees in my own house! There's a big tree, with many of the balls that I love on it, and underneath are a bunch of packages in paper that looks like candy that I would really like to investigate. However, my parents have put my old corral around that tree, so all I can is look and point. There's a little tree, though, with stars and snowflakes, that I can touch all I want. And I do.