Rowan where ya goin’?
That’s said to you almost daily now that you’re bipedly-trucking all over the place and I’m wondering at what age you’ll learn to despise the phrase.
Back to you now, I thought you couldn’t get any cuter but I put a bow tie on you and proved myself wrong (see evidence below). You’re always on the move, making your little photo sessions so hard but we were finally able to take some outside, which you love. Looking out windows, standing at the screen door, all you want is to be outside–which we love–and to play in the dogs’ water–which we don’t.
You get crazy amped up right before bed, and insist on no less than 7 books at bedtime; your current favorites are about the alphabet and a counting one with dinosaurs.
You’re a bit too clever for my taste. You can put the tops on sippy cups, already know that door knobs must be turned to open the door. Hugs, kisses–very aggressive kisses, waving at every car that drives by, saying “up”, and holding up a finger when we say “one”–you’ve mastered all of these.
As blond as ever, and perhaps more dramatic than your brother, but you are still a dear wee thing and we still swoon over you.