Hannah's Memoir : One Year

{If you missed Hannah's 6 month memoir, click HERE. If you missed her 9 month memoir, click HERE.}

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Hey, everyone! It's Hannah, here to set the record straight on a few things.

My mom tells just about everyone who will sit still that I'm a stubborn kid. Don't believe a word of it. She's totally lying. Don't believe her.

If she tells you that I still refuse to drink anything more than a 1/4 ounce from a sippy cup despite having done it successfully half a dozen times in the past, she's exaggerating. If she brings up how I didn't crawl until I was eleven months old, just walk away. You don't need to listen to all that.

Oh, and if she comments on how I love to roll over while she's trying to change my poopy diaper and thereby smear the contents of said diaper all over the crib sheet, she's just trying to get attention. I was only trying to help by getting the wipes closer to her. . . or something like that. Sheesh.

. . . .

Zoe and I are thick as thieves. I hear a bunch of talk about how great siblings are, but who needs 'em when I have a dog?!

I spend all day with mom, so when dad comes home from work, I get SO excited! He loves to toss me in the air and spin me around so fast that my hair flies out in crazy directions. He told me on my first birthday that he was going to need an arsenal of guns to display on the table when I'm old enough to start dating. He's a little protective, but I love it! I always know I can count on him.

I still sleep at least 12 hours a night; which my parents are extremely grateful for. But, hey, I just like sleeping, so you don't hear me complaining, either! However, when I'm not sleeping, I'm usually doing something like this:



Yeah. . . Quick side note. See that tractor in my crib in that picture? My Aunt Jenny and cousin Braden gave that to me. You push down on the dude in the driver's seat and the tractor makes all sorts of unholy sounds {including but not limited to a rooster crowing} and then takes off. If it hits into anything {which it always does due to a faulty alignment (thanks, dad, for all the car lingo!)}, it keeps trying to go and makes even MORE noise. I don't know who invented that thing, but they need a dirty diaper thrown at them.

Each time it would go off, I would burst into tears. Even after mom took out the batteries, I was wary of it for at least a day.

. . . . .

My favorite song is, hands down by far, "Patty Cake". I owe that song my ability to clap, after all. Mom used to like to brag to folks that I could clap to the beat, so shortly after she started saying that, I stopped doing it. I have to keep her humble, don't I?

I can sign "more" and that's about it. Mom and dad are trying to teach me "all done!" and "thank you", but I just like clapping my hands and smiling. Don't worry, though, because I'm filing all this away for future reference. I'm very observant and I love to analyze things {mom says that I'm just like dad in that respect!}

I have some of the craziest sleeping positions under the sun. At my one-year checkup with my doctor, the nurse asked how I sleep-- on my back, and my side, or on my stomach. My parents just laughed and said, "Yes."



. . . . .

I love going to my mom's symphony concerts. . .  until they start to perform. The cymbals scare the ever living tar out of me and I usually end up in the hall crying my eyelashes off.



Next time, I'll be wearing these during the concert:



You think I'm jokin'.

I'm not.

. . . . .

I have six teeth {three on the bottom; three on the top} and I'm cutting in some more. Mom keeps trying to check and see how many and where, but I clamp my lips together. Every. Single. Time.

But I'm not stubborn. Get that through your heads.

. . . . .

That's all I have time for this time 'round, but maybe I can talk mom into letting me guest post more often. It's not like I slobber on the keyboard or try and eat the screen or anything like that.