My baby is now 18 months. We had his check up at the doctor a couple of days ago. The conversation with her went something like this...
Doc - So how are his verbal skills?
Me - Define verbal skills.
Doc - How many words is he using?
Me - Like, that we can understand? Maybe 3 or 4?
Doc - (writing frantically in his folder) Well, how often does he have his pacifier?
Me - Only in bed. (yeah right, only like 20 hours of the day)
Doc - It's probably about time to get rid of that.
Me - I know, I am going to work on that really hard. (Whatever. He's taking that thing to kindergarten.)
Doc - So is he only using a sippy cup now?
Me - Oh yes, he loves it! (Umm...no, he still has about 3 bottles a day and loves that.)
Doc - Okay, well he looks great! Just work on making him use his words instead of pointing and grunting for something.
Me - Absolutely, only words from here on out. (He can get speech therapy in a few years if he's still not talking, right?)
To say that this little guy is spoiled rotten is an understatement. He has 3 girls wrapped around his tiny fingers and he can pretty much do no wrong. When I delivered the bruiser, one of the first things I said was, "what on earth am I going to do with a boy"? It took me awhile to get used to his smelly toots and fire hose that sprayed everything, but it didn't take me long to realize how special that bond is between a mother and son. The girls came out of the womb wanting to fight with me. He came out of the womb wanting to love me. He's rough. He's tough. He's a snuggler. He's crazy attached to his bunkiepacie (that's a blankie and pacie at our house). He's mischievous. He's a climber. He's obsessed with balls. He's the baby and we couldn't imagine our lives without him.
Sorry for the lack of great pictures. He's also very active and won't be still long enough to get a good picture.
This is his "cheeeese" face.
Ball. One of the 3 words he uses regularly.
Can we say braces? Hey Bucky.