Hannah's Memoir: 16 months

Has it really been three months since I last filled you all in on my crazy life HERE?!? That just can't possibly be accurate. My mom probably has a time machine she uses when my back is turned. Seems totally legit.

. . .

As you may or may not have heard, I recently decided to try walking on my own. If you've followed my existence at all, you may recall that I like to take my sweet time on, ummm, everything. . .But especially major milestones.



Thanks to no small amount of elbow grease on the part of my parents, I've finally decided to burn rubber instead of denim. Mom will be excited that I'll stop wearing holes in virtually every single pair of jeans I own, but I personally think I look pretty cool in holey jeans. I may have to work out some sort of system to keep me lookin' "fly".

Here's a clip of me walking on my own. . . or at least trying to at first. It's kind of hard when you're feet are only, like, 4 inches long. Cut a girl some slack.




Dad jokes that I merely pretend to fall down at this point because once I put my mind to it, I can walk as far as I want. I plead the fifth.

. . .

I've been getting much better at hanging out with other adults and even socializing with other kids. Of course, my idea of socializing usually involves poking at the eyes of anyone less mobile than me; crying when they expect me to share; and seeing which of us kids can fill their diaper with the most fowl smelling concoction the fastest.

I sure know how to party.

. . .

Mom says I'm absolutely obsessed with the movie "Tangled". All I know is that I can recognize a classic when I see one; and that's one of 'em. My favorite part is when the horsey comes on the TV and acts like a dog. I have a tendency to burst into laughter and then start barking like a dog. So maybe I'm a little confused. Don't judge.

I've started to learn how to roll my hands when Mom sings "Patty Cake", but it's still hit or miss. Sometimes I forget. It happens.

I'm also getting pretty good at folding my arms for prayers, but I only last about 2 seconds before getting bored and I start flailing my arms around again. I'm of the opinion that it's the thought that counts.

. . .

I think it'll only be another few months before I turn my mom and dad's hair completely gray at the rate I'm going. The other night, I took a dive from my crib because I was reaching for a very tantalizing decoration peeking out of a nearby moving box. Mom had left the side of my crib down while she went to get my toothbrush {don't get me started on THAT thing} and I ran into a little snag in my physics calculations. I reached the decoration all right, but unfortunately, it didn't keep me from becoming top heavy and flying over the side. BONK! Oh, well. I figure I must have a pretty thick hide because I was up and ready for another round of "Patty Cake" in about 30 seconds.

Dang, I love that song.

Next on my list of perhaps ill-conceived-but-nonetheless-entertaining daredevil feats was when my full time caregiver and personal slave {a.k.a "Mom"} was busy loading the entire bulk of  the bedroom closet into boxes {who does that, anyway?} and I shimmied up the stack of boxes in the kitchen and onto the counter top. I was quite content disarranging the mixing bowls there when Mom came to check on me and had a heart attack.  I was in big doo-doo that day, just let me tell ya.

. . . .

Rumor has it that I'll have entirely new {and much larger} stomping grounds here in the next few days, so the next time you hear from me, I'll no doubt have many more tales to tell and a few bruises to show for them. I can hardly wait!

See you later, alligator!