Holy 18 months.

She’s still a peach. Most Some Most of the time but HOLY 18 MONTHS.

She’s bossy. She’ll push you away. Moreover, she’ll push you all the way out of a room if your presence is not desired.

In the absence of real speech, she’ll pull you to wherever she wants. And demand whatever she wants. Usually it’s to the kitchen for food but more often to the closet where the band-aids are kept.

Her vocabulary however is expanding. She’s putting two words together on the regular. Mostly about how something is gone. Daddy gone. Mommy gone. And you don’t have to go far before she remarks upon your exit.

And she’s really found her groove with Mommy versus Momma. I miss the initial whispers of my super sweet label, but her little voice when she says, “Mommy Mommy Mommy” more than makes up for any backwards longing I might have.

She’s really ramped up the lose-her-shit moments. 3/4 fledged meltdowns on occasion. And today, oh today, she started hitting. WTH. It must just be a natural age progression because she’s out of daycare right now and there’s no hitting on Dora or Sesame. It’s one of those parenting moments where you really have no idea what to do. You want to demonstrate the severity of the transgression but also not give it too much attention so as to make it memorable enough for her to want to do again. I’m trying to go with a “be gentle” (which we use all the time with the cats and such), more sternly, and with the big serious eyes.

She was just on a bad streak today. I kinda, sorta, just a little wish 18 months was just a day.

18 months gone.