Seventeen months with Alvie Bean

Dear Little Bean,

You are now 17 months old. That’s almost a year and a half (please note that 17 months with you have made my math skills impressive!).

This month flew by. You got your last 1-year molar and are diligently working on the bottom canines. I’m beyond ready for those suckers to be in and done.

You are definitely developing opinions and a tiny personality. You love to help out, and enjoy sweeping and cleaning up messes. And if a mess cannot be found, you will take the initiative to create one, just so you have something to clean.

Helper!

Helper!

 

You’ve definitely discovered the value of a temper tantrum this month. Floppy limbs and the inexplicable gaining of eleventy pounds haven’t yet helped you get your way, but you’re not giving up yet. I try very hard not to laugh at the sad-sack baby when you’re very upset about whatever it is that makes you angry (maybe your hair is on too tight?), but even in your angry tempery times, you’re pretty cute.

Not an actual tantrum; just a re-enactment for dramatic effect.

Not an actual tantrum; just a re-enactment for dramatic effect.

We had some great times this month, didn’t we? We went to the part with your friend Ben and he taught you how to climb up the slide (and then slide back down). You two must have gone up and down that thing a dozen times. So much fun.

He does not quite understand chutes and ladders, yet.

He does not quite understand chutes and ladders, yet.

 

We also hit the pool once (you loved it, and loved the waterslide there, as well) and a local splash pad a couple times. It took you a bit to get brave, but once you got used to it, you had so much fun. Even the big kids almost knocking you down couldn’t dampen (pun intended, of course) your spirits.

Splish, splash, sploosh!

Splish, splash, sploosh!

 

This is your last month with your nanny. Starting October 1, you’ll be going to full-time day care. It turns out that mama can’t work from home with you very well anymore. I used to close all the doors but your room and the office & let you wander back and forth. However, now you can open doors. And flush the toilet. And sometimes I forget that a few minutes of silence means that something…interesting…is happening.

An entire, brand-new container of wipes. Apparently pulled out, one at a time, crumpled into balls, and scattered throughout the room.

An entire, brand-new container of wipes. Apparently pulled out, one at a time, crumpled into balls, and scattered throughout the room.

 

You are into everything. Always. And you don’t seem to feel too badly about that, either.

Ha! You caught me!

Ha! You caught me!

 

We went hiking on Labor Day weekend, and you did great! I carried you on my back for the 2.5 miles, and you kept up a constant chatter for the first 2. Only during that last 1/2 mile did you start to complain a bit. You were ready to be done and have our picnic, although it upset you greatly that I wouldn’t let you jump in the waterfall pool.

Posing...

Posing…

 

You love to read, and I can often find you settled down with a book (or two). But you also love to build towers (maybe I should call you Roland!) and destroy them. The Duplos were a great investment in terms of sheer entertainment value, but I’ve already stepped on them barefoot more than once.

I'm trying to create here. You're interrupted my concentration.

I’m trying to create here. You’re interrupting my concentration.

 

It’s been another exciting month, hasn’t it? I can’t believe you’re almost halfway to two. You’re still not verbalizing, and I’m definitely getting ready for that to happen. You’ve started signing “please” when you want “more,” and that’s so fun. I am ready for more words, though. You’re still mostly just doing mama, daddy, kitty (more or less), and hi! Last night, though, I swear when I asked if you were ready for your bath, you said “bath.” Kind of. If you don’t start speaking soon, I am going to be expecting complete sentences a la Charles Wallace. (Marcy – I’m reading the nursery rhyme book you got us, and he loves it, but I am blaming you for his lack of verbal skills at this point.)

I’m sure it will come soon enough, and then I’ll write things like, “why won’t Mr. Bean ever stop talking‽”

I love you, little man.

Mama

 

 

 

 

3 Responses to Seventeen months with Alvie Bean

  1. You absolutely will be wondering when he will ever stop talking soon! He will get there, I promise! If you didn’t live so far away I would talk with him all the time so I could get credit instead of blame!

  2. Oh those cheeeeks! So cute.

  3. Eliza Auckerman

    He is such a cutie, Amy! I have to say, though, the part about a moment of quiet followed by something interesting is pretty much spot on with dog ownership :)