After Arddun turned 1, I got slack and stopped taking her pictures on her monthversary. Or at least, I stopped taking ones with an A4 sign of the milestone. I don’t think I’ve stopped taking photos of her, really. This digital age makes memory building much more affordable, but it also means I take lots and lots of photos of Arddun doing pretty much the same thing.
For instance, in the last 2 weeks I’ve taken waaaay too many photos of Arddun demolishing babyccinos.
But I digress.
THIS was the photo I took for Arddun’s 17th monthversary. No sign saying, “I am 17 months old today” for several reasons:
- I forgot all about the monthversary photo till after lunch.
- I procrastinated after lunch. And then I forgot.
- My baby is now way too cool to pose next to a daggy sign, doncha know?
At 17 months, she (still) loves:
- Kitty and Monkey, her two best machine-washable pals. In that order.
- Chasing bubbles
- Splashing about in her clam shell pool
- Birds, doggies, kitties, piggies, ducks, and sheep. In that order.
- Imitating the occasional odd-sounding alert from my iPhone
- Shoes, because it means we’re going out
- Eating, although we draw the line at dodgy leftovers and cheap fish
- Drawing. Or emptying the crayons onto the mat, saying “Oh no!”… and then cracking up
- Singing Baa Baa Black Sheep. Recognisably.
- Reciting her numbers and getting up to 6 (!)
- Wiping her nose and then “blowing” it into a tissue. Except she keeps inhaling deeply. Same noises, only… backwards.
- The potty. Except she’d really rather sit on it when fully clothed.
- Saying “Oh no” and “Oh dear” when something goes wrong. Which is INFINITELY better than “Bl**dy” or “Sh*t” or the one starting with the letter F. *phew*
EDITOR’S NOTE, 6:17AM 20 NOVEMBER
For some bizarre reason, I had gotten it into my head when writing the post that Arddun had turned a year and a half. Which is a huge-ish milestone to me (yet apparently not a big enough one to warrant a handmade poster and posing!) Might have something to do with sorting out her clothes yesterday, and thinking I shouldn’t get clothes sized 12-18 months because she’ll hardly get wear of them anymore.
Thanks to my mother who counts dates better than I do, this has been amended.
Seventeen months old, and I’ve lost track already! *Gulp*