1.5

Eighteen months.  A year and a half.  I can hardly believe it, Will.  You are growing so fast, leaving the baby days behind as you embrace the excitement of being a little boy. Who you are today...

You are a little spit fire, full of energy and mischief.  Just when I think I can leave you alone for five seconds, you remind me that I can't. I've walked in on you standing in the middle of the kitchen table, pushing the chandelier back and forth.  I've discovered a flooded bathroom floor more times than I care to admit.  I constantly hear the chair squeaking across the kitchen floor and watch you use it to climb on top of the counter and eat m and m's out of the jar.  I recently walked out of my closet and watched you pull out my dresser drawers and use them as steps to crawl to the top.  And you, just like your older brother, Jack, are fully capable of opening any child proof medicine bottle.  In less than five seconds.  Your mischief and busyness leaves me shaking my head and struggling to maintain my sanity.  

You are always happy and so funny these days.  I tell your Daddy all the time that you may be our funniest boy, which says a lot with Jack as your older brother.  You love to dance and will break it down anytime you hear music.  Your dancing makes me smile and I love watching you add new moves to your repertoire.  I must say I still love the "swerve and twist" the best and you must know it because you do it all the time.  Your run still closely resembles a strut and it always looks like your chest is three seconds ahead of your legs.  You remain so friendly and I love watching you wave and smile at every stranger you meet.

Your eyes have more brown in them now and I think you may be my only boy with hazel eyes.  Your hair is still light brown and the summer sun has left you blond on top.  You have nine top teeth (still with one extra) and six bottom teeth.  You are cutting two more bottom teeth that have just broken through this week.  And it seems that overnight your eyelashes grew an inch and now curl perfectly.  You remind me so much of Sam at this age but you are also so unique and different.  You are so beautiful and your smile is so bright and so perfect.  That smile is what makes you you, sweet boy.

You still aren't saying much these days but, really, who needs to talk when you can scale kitchen cabinets and dresser drawers to get what you want.  You are really only saying "Mama," "hot," and "snack."  You enunciate quite well and can change any one syllable word into one with several syllables.  Like "hhhoooo-oooooottt"  and "snnnn-aaaaaa-ckkk."  This week you clearly said "Poppa" but you refuse to repeat it, no matter how much we beg.   And tonight when I caught you playing in the bathroom sink,  I scooped you up and said, "No siree Bob!", you mocked me and said "Bob! Bob!  Bob!"  You bark anytime you see a dog and you shake your head with such emphasis to say no that I worry you'll throw your neck out. Your dramatics continue to make us laugh like when you get "hurt" and you stop, squint your eyes shut, cover your face with both hands and whimper.  You swiftly remove your hands and peek through squinted eyes to make sure we're still watching and will not open your eyes until we've acknowledged your mishap.  And the sad face?  You are a pro at this one and will use it whenever you need to gain a little sympathy, especially after getting into trouble.  You can play heartbroken like no body's business.  And it works.  I'm putty in your hands and I know that you know it.

Will, my sweet, sweet Will.  Do you know how much I love you?  Do you know how happy you make me?  Do you know you make my heart overflow with a love that I can't explain or measure.  Thank you for eighteen months of smiles and kisses and late night cuddles.  I love you sweet boy.  More than you'll ever know.