Oh my sweet Evelyn. By the next time I post an update on you, you will no longer be an only child. I tell you probably 20 times a day about the new baby coming to stay with us and sleep in the crib next to your room, but I'm not sure how much you actually grasp. You love babies though- and you love pointing to my tummy and giving it kisses. I know you're going to be the best big sister there ever was, and I can't wait to help you grow into that role.
But for now, it's only you. So I'm going to focus on you for a little while.
I love your joy. It's contagious, really. Without you as my reminder to have joy in everything, life would be much less exciting. I love how you run- it's technically really fast walking with an alarmed/determined look on your face- but you do it so well. I love how you play hide and seek all by yourself in our coat closet. I'm not sure how it keeps you preoccupied for so long, but it does. I love that when I ask you what a birdie says you flick your fingers together, like you're trying to fly away.
Roxy is your best friend right now and you love chasing her, pulling on her face, sitting on her, and playing tug of war with her. Not many dogs would be as patient as she is.
You're obsessed with horses and the carousel at Cody Park is your favorite thing ever- second only to the llamas at the little zoo there. You love them too and you think that they make the same sound as a peacock, because I don't really know how to explain what a llama says to you.
Your daddy and I look at you everyday and tell each other how ridiculous it is that you're growing up so fast. You'll be two before we know it- but I don't even want to think about that right now.
You have to sleep with at least two stuffed animals every night- you're such a snuggle bug and I love it. On that note, you're SUCH a good sleeper now. It's been a long road, but we've finally found a schedule that works and you're sticking with it like a champ.
You like eating the whole apple, not sliced or peeled, just whole.
I'm not sure how this started, but the only kind of chicken you like to be is an angry one. Whenever you're asked what a chicken says you respond, in your most growl-y, angry voice, "Bahk BAHHK".
You have to do everything by yourself, which is why it takes us five minutes to get down the stairs every morning and why there always ends up being puddles of water everywhere from you spilling your drinks. But I love your independent spirit; even if it means you make frustrating choices, like choosing to be angry at your daddy or standing up over and over in the bath tub.
You're my sunshine and I'm so proud that you're mine.
