Do you all mind if I tell you a few stories about how my child is a genius? A GENIUS. I'm sorry for bragging, but I can't help it sometimes. You see, we were having breakfast on Wednesday, and Jack glanced at the refrigerator and spotted one of the alphabet letters. "O!" he said.
"Yup, that's an 'O,'" I replied.
Then he saw another one, and said it again. "O!" So I moved the second 'O' next to the first one. He looked at them both for a second and then said, "Two 'O's'!"
Eighteen months old last week, people, and he can add 1+1.
In other news, he has a crush on the girls from playgroup. We have a picture of him and his friend Amelia, and he likes looking at it so much I put it in his room for him. It's all crushed and folded now, from the times he gazes at it, saying, "Meh," (Amelia). Amelia didn't make it to playgroup this week, but it was at Sophie's house and Jack, Luke and Sophie were the only babies in attendance. Jack was eating Teddy Grahams, and I told him he had to share with Luke and Sophie, but when I tried to make him give one to Luke, he started wailing and sobbing. "Sokie!" he cried. "Sokie! So-oh-oh-kieeeee!"
"Do you want to give that one to Sophie?" I asked him.
Sniffle. Shuddering sigh. "'K," he whimpered.
Sophie is much prettier than Luke, you see. Not that Luke is not adorable, mind you; he is. Quite. He has huge brown eyes and curly, unruly hair. And very squishable cheeks. But I guess Sophie is more Jack's type.
Eighteen months old is my favorite age so far.