18 Months

Mr. Noah is now 18 months old. 

It is kind of bittersweet.  Bitter that my baby boy is growing up so quickly.  Sweet that he is pretty funny and enjoyable as a toddler.

That is, when he is not screeching.  Yep, still does that to make his point.  It's fun.

Because I was not blogging when the older two were this age and because I was a bad mom who did not write absolutely every milestone down in their baby books (which reminds me, I should really try to find those), I do not have much to compare Noah with.  So, every little thing that he is doing now amazes us, even though the chances that Abby and Caleb did those things at an earlier age is pretty high.

Anyway, little Noah has been talking a lot, lately.  I know-one of my kids is a talker-shocking.  He calls Caleb "Budher," Abby "Sista," Nick "Dada" and me, "Baba."  I seem to recall Caleb calling me "Baba" for awhile, too, so that's pretty funny.  One of his favorite words is "crack."  Before you call social services on me, he means cracker.  He walks to the cupboard, points and says, "crack."

Although, I have been told my chocolate chip cookies have crack in them, making them addicting, so maybe that is what he is trying to say.

Noah loves trying to keep up with his siblings.  He chases them, falls down, and gets right back up again.  He loves books (I know, another shocker).  And he still thinks his lovey is awesome.

The kid also gets quite offended when he is told no.  One would think that he would be used to the word, since he hears it ALL DAY LONG.  But, no, the world is ending when he hears it.  For example, as I am typing this, I saw his little fingers trying to reach the kitchen counter, where a bowl of the crack cookies sits.  I said, "Noah, no," to which he looked at me, listened, then burst into tears.

Twenty seconds later he got over it and found more mischief, so he is fine now.

Noah also is becoming famous for his mood swings. 

Happy

And one minute later...

Completely ticked off

I like to call Noah my little tornado.  From the moment that he wakes up until the second he goes to bed, he destroys everything in his path.  Toys are fun, but taking out all of my pots and pans, plus every single item in the lazy susan cupboard and the tuperware from the drawer is much more fun.  I just do not get it.  Why are my cookbooks more exciting than his own books?  Why are my measuring cups a thrill compared to his toys?

Speaking of which, he has managed to lose every one of my 1/4 cups.  Never realized how many recipes call for 1/4 cup of something until he lost all of them.

Even though he is total destruction, he is a pretty lovable kid.  He makes me laugh every time that he makes animal sounds or points to his parts of the body.  His little dimple still shows most of the day because of his big smiles.  And how can I be mad when I hear that amazing giggle?

Noah, you drive me crazy, but I love you.  You are a precious joy.