Oh hi, how are you? We haven't talked in a while; my mom is so lazy. I heard she just posted a blog from the last two months with barely any captions. She missed my nine month blog. She missed Ava's actual birthday. And Christmas. WHAT KIND OF MOM BLOGGER SKIPS A CHRISTMAS BLOG? Anyway, happy 2014. I'm going to cut her some slack, since I've cut eight thousand teeth and myself, Ava and Mom have been passing the Cold from Hell back and forth for weeks now. Personally, I blame Ava's preschool. Those kids are gross- always sneezing on everything and forgetting to cover their mouths. Uncouth, if you ask me.
If my mom had been accurately keeping this blog up, you'd know that at my 9 month checkup I'd skyrocketed to the 65th percentile for height (28 inches) and the 60th for weight (19.5 pounds). I've definitely broken the 20 pound barrier by now- my mom says her back can attest.
I'm wearing clothes that Ava wore as an 18 month old, and some of them are a little tight (according to mom; I think these pants fit just right). I'm cruising around all over furniture now, attacking Ava's toys with all my might* and pretty much think I'm going to walk any day now and....oh, hey, what's that over there?
*Attack is the accurate word. Mila throws elbows and pushes Ava out of the way when she wants something, while Ava yells "helppppp!!". Ava hasn't realized that she's bigger. Yet.
I've seen Dad drink these. But they've been left down here at baby level. So they must be for me.
Today is the best day ever!
Kate: I can see where this is going and I'm powerless to stop it. Why doesn't anyone ever listen to me? I TOLD Dad to put those away in the fridge last night.
I'm feeling pretty good. Belly full, pants unbuttoned. Wait, these are baby leggings. I don't have buttons. Even better.
Maybe just one more, for the road? I'm digging these throwback cans. Totally retbo. I mean retvo. Retro. That's the word.
Feeling a little woozy.
I told you so.
